A Monstrous Escape (Deidra Ann Adventures Book 3)

Book summary

Thirteen-year-old Deidra Ann Williams faces her toughest challenge yet as a monstrous force, unleashed from a mystical prison, threatens the world. With her family in peril, Deidra must harness new magic and confront powerful storms to restore order. Can she outsmart their enemy before it’s too late?

Excerpt from A Monstrous Escape (Deidra Ann Adventures Book 3)

Chapter 1

My name is Deidra Ann Williams. I’m thirteen years old, and I live with my Granny, Aunt Willa, and Uncle Billy in a house at the edge of a mysterious forest where strange and magical creatures live. I know all about it because I’ve ventured into the woods and saw the wonder for myself.

When my eyes pop open this morning, my brain is already going over what I need for school. Did I get all my homework done? Do I have a test today? Then I remember and grin so hard my cheeks hurt. Today is the first day of summer vacation. The next three months roll out in front of me like a glorious tapestry of adventure.

I raise my arms over my head and do a big stretch from my fingers to my tippy toes. Then I get out of bed and walk barefoot to the bathroom. After I pee, I splash water on my face and try to brush my hair. I say “try” because my disobedient red curls always refuse to lie flat. Earlier this year, I would have wondered why I look different than anyone else in the family. My aunt and granny have dark, straight hair, and they don’t have my green eyes. That was when I didn’t know who my daddy was and had never put eyeballs on my momma.

That all changed when the tree loggers used trickery to try and take ownership of the magical forest land, and Momma and Dad had to testify in court. After seeing my dad walk into the courtroom, there was no doubt who had gifted me with my hair and eyes. Just as I was thinking our family could now all live together, they disappeared again, claiming it was to protect me. From what, I ask, but everyone thinks I’m too little for an explanation. Hello, I’m not a baby anymore.

“Where’s Granny?” I ask Willa when I go into the kitchen. Like every morning, she’s sitting at the table reading the Bible. Here’s the thing about my auntie: Something bad happened to her and my mom when they were young. Willa ran back to the safety of Granny’s house and has never left it. Momma just ran. She only returned to drop off baby me with Granny.

“Your granny’s out by the fence,” Willa says, pointing at the back door.

“What’s she doing out there?” I ask, taking a bowl out of the cupboard for cereal.

“Testing the air.”

I’m opening my mouth to say something when I realize what Aunt Willa means. “Granny feels something coming on?”

Willa nods, still focusing on the scripture.

“Something bad?”

“Best you find out for yourself seeing how you’re so curious.”

Cereal forgotten, I go find Granny. I worry it’s something real bad seeing we’ve for sure had enough of that lately.

Granny’s out by the picket fence. She’s staring toward the tall loblolly pines that grow at the edge of the woods. Fog hovers over the meadow that lies between our house and the forest. As I watch, wisps of fog twist and swirl as the mist slowly rises and tangles in the treetops. The movement makes me shiver seeing how there’s not a hint of a breeze and the air is as still as a deserted graveyard.

“Granny?” I say softly, not wanting to startle her.

She turns to me, and seeing her face, I realize for the first time how old she seems. Not her hair, of course; that’s been gray as long as I remember, but her cheeks have hollowed out, and her eyes are dull.

“Deidra Ann,” she answers, and it comes out all croaky.

I put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her like she always does for me. I’ve grown taller than her now, and for a minute it’s like we’ve traded places—I’m the grownup and she’s now the child. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

She sighs and pats the hand I have slung over her shoulder. “Something’s changed. There’s been a death, an important one.”

I start to ask who, but just then Willa opens the kitchen door and hollers, “Momma, phone for you.”

We start back to the house. I linger a bit, and when I look back at the meadow, the fog has picked up its twirly, swirly speed. Something about the way it moves scares me.

I stay for a while watching the fog. That means I only catch the last part of the phone conversation and just Granny’s side.

“I appreciate you letting us know, Donny.”

Silence as Granny listens.

“Donald, then. The funeral will be in three or four days, you think?”

Silence.

“Yes, of course. I ‘xpect the pastor will announce it in church.”

Silence.

“Your father was a fine man and our condolences to you all. God bless.”

At that, Granny gently places the receiver back in the cradle. For as long as I remember, that old black phone has rested in a nook cut into the hall’s wall.

Willa and I hover, eager to know the details. I suspect since Granny called the caller Donny and by the way Willa is wringing her Kleenex, that old Mr. Albertson must have passed.

“Don Albertson?” asks Willa.

Granny nods. “Sometime just before dawn.”

“Gone on to a better place, praise Jesus. He’s at peace now after the suffering he’s had.”

“Praise Jesus,” echoes Granny. She exchanges a look with Willa. “And may the Lord protect us all.”

Chapter 2

At church on Sunday, Pastor Tom Chambers announces that the funeral for Donald Albertson, Sr., will be held Tuesday. That gives me this afternoon—after dinner dishes are done, naturally—and Monday, to do some exploring. When I was little, Granny forbade me from entering the woods. That changed last year after I rescued my lost classmate, Jenny. There is no going back after that. Plus, I’m thirteen now and smarter with my knowing how the magical forest works.

Earlier this year, Uncle Abe arrived in his little Shasta trailer to teach me magic skills. Together, we saved the forest from the loggers. Uncle Abe isn’t really my uncle, but everyone calls him that. He claims he’s over a hundred years old. That’s hard to believe seeing he goes trotting along as good as Uncle Billy. He carries a walking stick topped with a golden lion’s head. The lion’s name is Wilbur. Believe me, Wilbur doesn’t let anyone harm Uncle Abe.

Soon as I can, I escape the house. Not, of course, without a million questions.

“Where’re you headed, Missy?” Granny asks.

“Not far. Just looking around,” I tell her, trying to act all casual.

“You be careful out in those woods,” adds Billy. “We don’t wanna have to go finding you if’n you get lost.”

My aunt gives me the squint eye but doesn’t say anything.

Granny says, “Be back in two hours. I want you home before dusk.”

Do they know what I’m planning? I hate it when they read my brain like that. “Okie dokie,” I tell them and speed out the door.

I cross the meadow and scoot beneath the triangle of leaning pines that marks the start of the trail through the thick trees and bushes. Soon I’m in a clearing. It’s a special protective place, Granny claims. It’s carpeted with moss, old leaves, and pine needles. Flat-topped stones, perfect for sitting, circle the edge. I sit myself on the ground, my back against one of the stones, and search out a bird.

Uncle Abe taught me how to fly. Not actually me, since he said that would take giant wings to lift me off the ground, even if I am shorter and skinnier than my classmates. Instead, I call down the birds that flit through the tops of the trees. Spotting one of the sparrows, I use my imagination to mimic his movements—the tilt of its head, the snatch of a tiny bug hiding in the tree’s bark, the fluff of its wings.

Pop, and I’m inside the sparrow’s mind looking down at a sleeping me propped against the rock. I—the bird—look up through the leaves at a spot of blue sky. We launch. This is always the best part, arrowing up and up until I’m flying above the treetops.

There’s a deep canyon that splits the magical forest. A couple of times on other flying trips, I’ve seen at the bottom of the canyon, where it widens, what looks like buildings carved into the cliffside. I’ve spotted people moving down there, and I’m powerfully curious to find out what that’s all about and who lives there.

I wing my way in that direction. The sun warms the bird’s back, and I sense its joy in the clear warm day—and a belly full of bugs.

Soon, I reach the cliff village. There’s a gnarly pine growing out of a crack in the wall of the canyon. I land on one of the branches, suck in the fresh scent of pine, and watch the goings-on below me.

There’s a man and woman down there with a kid littler than me. The man is dressed in jeans and a buckskin shirt with western stitching—birds have really good eyes, so I can see that from where I’m perched. A thick belt with conchos is threaded through the belt loops on his jeans. The woman is also in jeans, but she has on a checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Both have long black and silver hair they wear braided down their backs. The kid has short dark hair and is dressed the same way, in jeans and a shirt.

The man is sitting on a chair with a tray of plant seedlings on his lap. He’s digging the baby plants out of the tray and tucking them inside a shallow basket. The woman and boy are flattening dough balls and placing them on a metal grill that sits over a campfire. The breeze shifts and the scent of baking bread drifts toward me. If I were in my own body, I just know my tummy would be growling, but the bird I’m in doesn’t seem to care.

The woman turns and speaks to someone inside the doorway that’s been carved into the side of the canyon. I sure want to see what it looks like inside that place. I’m leaning forward, trying to peek around a spray of pine needles. I’m so intent on looking that I don’t at first see the woman who walks out to join the others. Then POW. I realize...

“Cheep, cheep,” I say in my bird voice and flutter my wings. What I mean is, “Mom, mom!” What is she doing here? I almost lose my footing, already tipped forward like I am. I flap my wings to keep my balance.

Everyone turns at the sound of loud chirps to stare right at me.