Today the snippet comes from Merlin’s Weft, book two of Mark Andersen’s, Merlin’s Thread series.
Release date, November 18th. Now available for preorder at Amazon
Merlin’s Weft by Mark Andersen
Book 2 of the Merlin’s Thread series. Book 1 is Merlin’s Knot, also available on Amazon
This snippet from Merlin’s Weft starts partway through a magic ritual wherein the disparate parts of a thirty-four-year-old woman with multiple personalities will be joined together. Merlin the druid has followed a quest to 21st century Houston and uses his power to perform the ceremony with the healer Neve.
When the scene opens we are inside the mind of the woman, where two of her personas discuss the upcoming union. Lolly has the personality of a seventeen-year old, and Rage mostly seems seven.
Deleted passages are indicated as […].
Neve caressed the girls’ real head. They knew Merlin had finished his part of the ceremony, so the healer could now reunite the multiple personalities into one. Lolly’s persona alone would remain whole, forming the base of the merged woman.
Rage tamped her anger down to speak with Lolly.
“Leaving things for you. Bad things … you gotta know ’em.” She handed Lolly a box of VCR tapes. “Not real. This way, you watch, not relive.” She spat out a word: “Met-a-for.” Then she stared into Lolly’s eyes. “Hope this met-a-for works good f’r you.”
Lolly held the box away from her body. “What are they?”
“Oh? When? When they killed our parents or when you killed them?”
“Both…. Bad…. You need-a know.”
“So I haffa watch? Can I fast forward the bad parts?”
Rage nodded, her back stiff.
“I’m not sure I can thank you for this.” Lolly placed the box on the coffee table.
“S’okay.” Rage looked at Lolly aslant, a rare smile twisting her mouth. “I’m clever, though. You get that from me.”
Lolly beamed. “For that, I do thank you. I’m not very bright.”
“Smarter’n ya think,” Rage said. “‘Nother thing. My room.”
Lolly shivered. “I’ve always been ‘fraid-a that door. Of what’s behind it.”
“I do’n know if I can face it.”
Rage put her hand on Lolly’s arm. “Won’t hurt you.”
Lolly hugged her. When they parted, another box appeared in Rage’s arms.
“The quiet girl sends these.” Rage presented her a box packed with photo albums.
“Pictures. Memory movies. Sketches. Mommy and Daddy.”
Lolly started crying. She’d never seen images of her parents. They’d been dead for ten years by the time the quiet girl created her […].
Lolly opened one of the books and saw a photo of a little girl a few years younger than Rage standing in a field with a rugged young man. The next picture showed the girl standing beside a kind-looking woman with flour on her hands and apron.
Similar images filled the albums in the box.
Looking up from the photos, Lolly wiped tears from her eyes and realized that two little girls stood before her. The new one appeared to be Rage’s twin, but she exuded an almost opposite attitude. Her features seemed gentle. Her eyes looked like deep pools of water: everything went in, but nothing came out.
The bad men had told the little girl to be quiet, never to tell anyone that she’d seen them kill her parents, or demons would chase her and kill her. She’d become the quiet girl. She pent up all her anger and frustration in a separate place in her mind. It became Rage. Lolly had never seen the quiet girl before yesterday when Merlin forced her to the surface. Even now, the original occupant of their body hadn’t spoken to her, only to Rage.
The quiet girl walked over and pulled Lolly’s face down to hers, then put her other arm around Rage, enfolding their shoulders so their heads formed a tight circle.
The image of the girl with the man in the field came to life. Lolly felt them walking together, her tiny hand in his big, calloused one. He pointed out the pastel colors in the east as the sun set behind them. Then the picture in the kitchen became her and her mother singing a song together while mixing dough. That changed to an image of the three of them blowing out candles on a cake decorated with a child’s scrawl in bright blue icing: “Happy Birthday Daddy.”
“Adele,” the quiet girl said. “They named us Adele.”
Want to know more about Mark Anderson and his books? Check out his website at www.markandersentales.com