The Helicon Muses Omnibus: Books 1-4 Read online

  Contents

  Welcome to Helicon

  The Helicon Muses

  Copyright

  Main Table of Contents

  DANCING DAYS

  Synopsis

  Acknowledgements

  Title Page

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  GOODBYE BLUE SKY

  Synopsis

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  COME TOGETHER

  Synopsis

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY

  Synopsis

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Not ready to leave Helicon yet?

  Welcome to Helicon.

  Welcome Home.

  The Helicon Muses

  Books One - Four

  by V. J. Chambers

  © copyright 2015 by V. J. Chambers

  http://vjchambers.com

  Punk Rawk Books

  Please do not copy or post this book in its entirety or in parts anywhere. You may, however, share the entire book with a friend by forwarding the entire file to them. (And I won’t get mad.)

  DANCING DAYS

  GOODBYE BLUE SKY

  COME TOGETHER

  OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY

  DANCING DAYS

  Dancing Days:

  The Helicon Muses, Book One

  by V. J. Chambers

  As long as Nora Sparrow can remember, Owen has protected her. He’s been there through years of miserable foster homes and snobby mean girls, always whispering to her that she doesn’t belong here. Telling her that this is the mundane world, and someday, he’ll get them back to Helicon, the world of the muses. The world where they belong.

  But Nora’s fifteen years old, and she isn’t sure she quite believes it anymore. When he begs her to try another ritual to open the dimensions, she agrees mostly to humor him. Owen’s rituals never work.

  But this one does, and Nora is flung into the whimsical, bohemian land of Helicon, where she’s expected to do nothing more than create and inspire. With the help of her new muse friends, Nora sets out to discover who is creating holes in the fabric of Helicon and draining away the muses’ energy.

  Everything would be perfect, if only Owen’s protectiveness wasn’t starting to seem so...obsessive.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I am indebted to my fabulous beta reader N. R. Wick for helping me get this manuscript into shape. Thank you so much, Nikki.

  Dancing Days

  The Helicon Muses, Book One

  by V. J. Chambers

  PROLOGUE

  The dismissal bell cut clear and cold into the air, so loud that anyone standing outside Tressa Middle School could hear it echoing from within. And seconds later, the thud of hundreds of feet rent the air. A crowd of young adolescents shoved open the doors of the school. It was a warm spring day, but the buzz of the newly freed students drowned out the sound of the birds chirping.

  Nora Sparrow, twelve years old, trailed behind a group of four girls, who were tittering over a magazine full of pictures of teen idols. The girls passed the magazine back and forth amongst themselves as they walked, each cooing over pictures of actor Matt Tint, who one girl proclaimed was, “Delicious enough to eat.”

  None of the girls noticed Nora walking behind them as they cleared the doors of the school and bounded down the steps into the warm air. No one noticed Nora. No one ever had. This was the tenth school she’d attended and the eleventh foster family she’d lived with. Adults often asked her if she was making friends. Nora wasn’t, but she wanted to.

  It was harder than ever anymore. It seemed like, with every passing day, it got more important for Nora to be wearing the right kinds of clothes or styling her hair the right way for people to notice her. For Nora, who’d just gone through a growth spurt and had a collection of pants that were too tight at the waist and too short for her legs, trendy clothes were not an option. She’d tried asking her foster mother about getting her hair styled but had been ignored, so her red hair had been cut (by her foster father) in a short bob.

  There was one thing that Nora thought she could do to make friends. Owen always told her not to do it, but she wasn’t sure if she believed those stories Owen was always telling her. She wasn’t a little kid anymore. She didn’t need Owen’s bedtime stories. She knew he meant for them to make her feel better, but following his rules was only making her miserable. So she was trying to get up the courage to talk to these girls.

  The girls all paused at the end of the steps, hovering over the magazine, their mouths wide.

  “I love his smile,” sighed one girl. Nora knew that her name was Angela.

  Taking a deep breath, Nora tapped Angela on the shoulder.

  Angela turned. She gave Nora a look of disdain. “What?”

  “You’re looking at pictures of Matt Tint, right?” Nora asked.

  One of the other girls, who was named Ashleigh, rolled her eyes. “Did anyone ask you to come talk to us?”

  “We’re having a private conversation,” said the third girl, who was called Caitlyn.

  Nora shrugged. “Well, okay, but I draw Matt Tint. I thought you guys might want to see.” Nora pulled out a sketch pad. She’d been working on various drawings of the teen hunk for days, trying to get them perfect. She thought this one was her best. She hoped it wo
uld impress the girls.

  “Whoa.” Angela snatched the sketch book from Nora. “That’s really good.”

  Caitlyn and Ashleigh crowded closer to peek. They looked at Nora with different eyes, as if they’d never really seen her before. Their eyes flitted from the sketch pad to Nora’s face, and the expressions on their faces were ones of wonder.

  “How’d you do that?” asked Caitlyn. “It looks just like him.”

  Ashleigh shook her head. “No way, it looks better than him. The guy in this picture is too delicious to eat.”

  The three girls giggled, and Nora joined in, smiling. She couldn’t believe it. Not only had they noticed her, they were impressed by her.

  “You’re Nora, right?” said Caitlyn.

  Nora nodded.

  “We’re going back to my house to play dance games on my Wii,” Caitlyn said. “Do you want to come?”

  Nora couldn’t suppress a huge grin. “I love to dance,” she said.

  Overhead, the sky was abruptly changing. Dark clouds were rolling in, obscuring the blue sky. The air was growing colder. Nora looked up, shivering a little, but the other girls were too engrossed with the picture she’d drawn to pay it any mind.

  Ashleigh called out to another group of girls on the steps. “You should see this picture that Nora drew! It’s amazing.”

  The other group of girls drew close, passing the picture around amongst them, each giving Nora rapturous looks when they saw it. They whispered and sighed, and Nora could hear the awe in their voices. It made her feel buoyant and alive, more happy than she thought she’d ever felt. Ever.

  Thunder rumbled overhead. Nora looked up at the sky apprehensively. “Do you think it’s going to rain?”

  “You should show this to Mrs. Garn,” said Angela. Mrs. Garn was the art teacher. “She would be really impressed.”

  By now, other students were noticing that a small crowd had gathered at the bottom of the steps, and they were stopping to see what the fuss was about. In turn, they all examined Nora’s picture. More exclamations were made at its greatness. Everyone was extremely impressed. They congratulated and flattered her. Nora found herself in the center of a group of middle schoolers, laughingly deflecting their praise. It felt so good.

  The sky grew darker.

  Across the street, the sound of another bell sounded, and the older students who attended Tressa High School began to exit the larger building. Nora bit her lip. That meant Owen was getting out of school. And if he saw her and realized what she’d done, he might not be happy.

  Noticing all the kids crowded up outside the middle school, several of the high school students wandered over, demanding to know what was going on. Nora’s picture was passed to them as well. There was more generalized amazement, everyone admiring the picture.

  Nora was starting to feel nervous. Was her picture really that good? If it was, that meant that all those things that Owen said about muses were real. And if it was all real, then the danger was real too.

  The sky was purplish black overhead. Nora stared at it in fear, noticing the strange purple sparks that leapt from dark cloud to dark cloud. She didn’t think this was a normal storm. Thunder crashed, shaking the air, but no one seemed to care. They were all too interested in Nora’s drawing. Nora watched the sparks of purple in the clouds join together, forming a large lightning bolt that danced in the sky above, growing thicker and longer with each passing moment. She gulped.

  “Nora!” screamed a voice.

  Owen. He was here.

  She took her gaze away from the clouds for a moment to look for him. He was pushing through the crowd that had gathered around her, his dark hair in his eyes. “What did you do?” There was panic in his voice.

  “I drew a picture,” she squeaked.

  A bang of thunder.

  Owen glanced upward and then tackled Nora, knocking her to the ground and covering her body with his own.

  Nora could barely see the huge purple lightning bolt descend from the cloud and strike Owen’s body. He lit up from the hair on his head to the tips of his fingers. He shuddered above her, crying out in pain.

  Nora squeezed her eyes shut. No. She whimpered. She should never have shown them the picture. Owen said if she ever showed anyone anything creative she’d done, she’d be in danger. The Influence killed muses if they were in the mundane world, he’d told her. And now it was killing Owen.

  But the bolt ceased, and Owen, gritting his teeth, got to his feet and helped Nora up. Above them, the clouds were already clearing. He turned on the crowd of people, who were all standing shocked around them. They backed up a few paces, seeing his fierce expression. “Who’s got the picture?”

  No one moved.

  “The picture,” Owen growled. “Someone’s got it. Give it to me.”

  And Angela stepped forward, holding up the sketchbook.

  Owen snatched it from her and took Nora by the arm. He dragged her away from the other students. “I told you never to do that, didn’t I?” he said. “Didn’t I tell you never to do that?”

  “I’m sorry.” Nora hung her head. She hadn’t really believed him.

  “You’re lucky I was there, and I could take the Influence’s energy,” said Owen. “Otherwise, you’d be dead.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  three years later...

  Nora Sparrow clutched her books to her chest and did her best to hide behind her hair as she walked into art class. She hated art class. She was required to take it. Everyone was. But she couldn’t produce any actual art. She’d learned that lesson well enough three years ago when she was twelve. She would never forget the lightning bolt from the sky, the way Owen had cried out in pain. Not to mention the fact that Owen’d had to finagle something to get them moved out of that foster home immediately afterward, considering that everyone had seen her art and kept asking questions about it. It wasn’t worth it.

  They’d put her in freshman art last year, no matter how hard she’d protested. And then she’d spent an entire year doing nothing. She got a zero for the whole year. Her art teacher had informed her, in a voice dripping with sarcasm, that Nora was the first student in the teacher’s career to get such a low grade in art.

  The art room didn’t have desks, just several long tables with six chairs at each of them. Nora always sat in the back at a table alone. She was lucky the art class was small enough that she didn’t have to share a table with anyone. She came into class every day and put her head down. She was in her second quarter of the same freshman art class this year—her sophomore year—and she was making a zero yet again. At this rate, she wasn’t going to graduate high school. It was ridiculous. And trying to have a conversation with the school counselor or her social worker or her foster mother about it was worthless. They didn’t understand. She couldn’t tell them the truth, or they’d think she was crazy. Sometimes Nora thought she was.

  Nora peered through strands of her red hair as she made her way back to the table she usually sat at. She liked to keep her hair in her face. She felt like it meant people didn’t really have to look at her. And Nora often wished she could simply be invisible.

  After sweeping several thumbtacks off her chair and hearing the jocks sigh in disappointment that she hadn’t actually sat on them, Nora settled in her chair and buried her head in her arms. Art wasn’t the only class that she had to be careful about being creative in, but it was the only class she took that was completely about creativity. She had to avoid some assignments in English class or history occasionally. She had to make sure she chose electives carefully. Home ec was out—too many chances to cook or sew creatively. Gym was fine, but she hated gym. Still, it usually ended up on her schedule. Foreign languages were fine. She filled in the rest of her schedule with study halls and teacher assistant classes. The French teacher really liked her.

  And overall, it was easier now that she was in high school. As a first grader, her teachers had been so concerned when she wouldn’t color in class.

  The t
ardy bell rang, and her art teacher closed the door to the classroom, coming inside from the hall. “You guys are supposed to be finishing up your perspective drawings,” she said. “Get to work.”

  Other students in the class pulled out sketchpads or went to get charcoal from the art supplies cabinet. Nora just kept her head down. She could hear the clacking of the art teacher’s shoes as she approached Nora’s table.

  “Nora,” said the teacher, “I’ve told you before you can’t sleep in class.”

  Nora raised her head defiantly, glaring at the teacher.

  The teacher sat down in a chair next to Nora. She smiled.

  Oh great. This was worse than when they were mean. Nora looked away.

  “I was talking to Mrs. Fields yesterday,” said the teacher. Mrs. Fields was the French teacher, the one that liked Nora.

  Nora shrugged. “So?”

  “She says you doodle in her class sometimes. She says she’s seen you do it, and you always hide whatever it is you’re drawing.”

  Note to self, thought Nora. Stop drawing in French class. She hadn’t thought anyone noticed, or she never would have done it.

  “Why don’t you try drawing something in here?” said the teacher. She was pleading with Nora. “You don’t have to be Michaelangelo to get a good grade in this class, you know. But if you won’t try at all, how am I supposed to reward you? You have to make an effort.”

  Nora shrugged. Often, if she didn’t speak to teachers too much, they gave up.

  The teacher’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know what to do with you. You’re failing art for the second year in a row, and it’s only because you won’t do anything.”

  “I’m not a creative person, okay?” Nora kept her voice sullen. Teachers hated it when you were sullen.

  The teacher got up out of the chair. “Fine with me.” She turned away. “No one can say I haven’t tried,” she muttered.

  It was that part that always annoyed Nora. That teachers somehow thought it had something to do with them. It didn’t. Nora made her own decisions. The teachers had nothing to do with them.