Misha's Promise Read online

  Back of the Book

  After spending her youth being reviled and abused, Misha Wyatt has settled into a peaceful existence as a healer in Karst, New America.

  When an airplane crashes in the meadow outside of Karst, Misha hurries to the wreckage to help the pilot.

  Misha is not expecting the pilot to be alive…or so beautiful. Will her uncontrollable desire to keep the pilot safe be her downfall? Will their love survive the dangerous journey East? Can they survive this journey?

  The last book in the Karst series brings our characters to their physical and emotional limits. Don’t miss the culmination of this exciting series!

  Misha’s Promise

  Karst Series Book 3

  © 2020 by Renee MacKenzie

  Affinity E-Book Press NZ LTD.

  Canterbury, New Zealand

  First Edition

  ISBN: 978-1-98-858863-6

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author and publisher. Please note that piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights and is illegal.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Angela Koenig

  Proof Editor: Alexis Smith

  Cover Design: Irish Dragon Designs

  Production Design: Affinity Publication Services

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank my Affinity family for all their support over the years. Y’all rock! Thanks to Angela Koenig for a wonderful edit, Alexis Smith for the great proofreading, and Irish Dragon Designs for the incredible cover.

  Thanks to Sandi Baum and Teresa McKnight for their early read-throughs. Your insights were phenomenal.

  Thanks to Pam for always being there. Love you!

  And big thanks to the readers—without you there wouldn’t be nearly the amount of joy in writing as there is.

  Dedication

  To Pam, always.

  Also by Renee MacKenzie

  Single Stories

  Pausing

  Anywhere, Everywhere

  23 Miles

  Nesting

  Confined Spaces

  Flight

  Karst Series

  Kai’s Heart

  Naomi’s Soul

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Part Two

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Part Three

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  The Last Falcon: a Karst short story

  About the Author

  Other Books from Affinity

  Prologue

  East, Over Perry

  From the plane I can just make out small structures and what must be people moving around off in the distance. They will hear us; they will be readying for us.

  She reaches to me and squeezes my knee. “Are you ready for this, Misha?”

  I lift the small gun out of my lap and stare at it for several beats before saying, “Yes, I am ready.”

  She gives me a nod and moves her right hand from my knee to the steering apparatus.

  Within minutes, she fires upon the scurrying people. We are nearing the only plane I can make out on the ground. We get closer and closer, bringing the faces of the people into focus.

  “Oh,” she says with a hitch in her breathing.

  I see recognition flash across her face. I wait for her response. Am I relieved or disturbed when she stays the course and annihilates everyone in our strike zone? I wonder if I will ever ask her about the person who elicited that bewildered “oh” from her lips.

  The plane I saw upon our approach has taken off now and is joined by another.

  She reaches down to her left side, not taking her eyes off the direction she flies, and I know what she’s done when I hear the staccato sounds of the large gun firing round after round.

  She banks the plane hard to the right to outmaneuver one of the enemy planes and her arm shoots out across my chest as she tries to anchor me in place.

  “I will hold on,” I tell her. “You concentrate on flying this thing.”

  Ammunition from the long gun hits the wing of the closest plane, causing it to tilt awkwardly to its side. When it falls from the sky it clips the back of the other plane and sends it, too, somersaulting out of the sky.

  I gasp, surprise overwhelming me.

  “Hold this,” she yells, her nod indicating the steering apparatus.

  “I cannot—”

  “Yes, you can. Please.”

  I grab where she indicates, and she reaches out, leaning so far to her left that I fear she will topple out. She grunts as she yanks upward, then she straightens up for a moment to fly the plane toward what I assume to be the bunker.

  The plane lurches when she reaches down again, and I am startled by the loud explosion beneath us. We ascend higher, then she drops another bomb, then yet another.

  People on the ground are firing large guns at us, so I take aim with the small gun. I know that once I pull the trigger, I will not be able to undo what I will have done.

  I concentrate, and return the fire. I hit two people, miss a few others.

  Then the gun jams. “Oh, no.”

  She looks at me, then at the gun. “I guess now I’m not allowed to crash in Perry,” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice.

  “I guess not,” I agree.

  When I look down now all I see are a few immobile people and a lot of destruction. She banks hard to the right and aims the plane away from Perry.

  My heart jumps around in my chest as a series of other explosions rock the ground below us. I glance at her and her face is awash in orange light, a reflection from the massive fire growing below us.

  “There must have been a chain reaction, probably their arsenal exploded when it caught fire,” she says.

  I look behind us and see nothing but flames. I am about to whisper a prayer to the Goddess to bless the dead, when I feel her hand on my leg. I turn to face her.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Not a scratch on me,” I say, half teasing.

  She taps a finger against my temple. “In here. Are you okay with what we just did?”

  I do not know if I am truly all right, beyond the relief that we don’t need to use the jammed gun to keep from being taken alive. I take several deep breaths, center myself, and realize that yes, I am all right with ensuring the survival of myself, my lover, and my fellow New Americans.

  “Yes, I am fine.” I give her a smile. “Now, what is next?”

  “We should have enough power to make it to the top of that ridge,” she says as she points to the mountain to the west of us. “Then we will need to make use of every bit of wind we can to help us glide over the next, smaller range and eventually to the easternmost part of New America. From there we should be able to hike to Karst—or to Kai’s village?”

  “Kai lives much farther west, if she has gone home yet by the time we get there. Naomi’s village, Liberté, is much closer. Or we could go to Las Estrellas. I know the leaders and healer there, who might be willing to help us.” My words come out in a
rush.

  She nods. “I adore you.”

  “I love you,” I counter. I place my hand on her leg and give a gentle squeeze. She takes my hand in hers and kisses the palm.

  “Hang on, my love.”

  I settle back into the seat and take a deep breath.

  “Here we go,” she says.

  She forces the plane up, at an angle that feels totally unnatural, even more so than the actual act of flying has felt. I am forced back against the seat and feel my head growing heavy, the pressure in my ears building again.

  Up, up, up we climb!

  The plane jerks, sputters.

  “No, no, no,” she chants in a low voice.

  “Are we—” I don’t finish asking, just watch as the mountain we were originally paralleling ourselves with comes closer and closer.

  “I know this sounds counterintuitive, but try to relax.”

  “Counterintuitive?” I laugh. “Really?”

  “That was a Suzanna word, wasn’t it?” she asks as she struggles to hold the plane steady.

  I smile, bittersweet. “Suzanna, if you are listening, we could use some wisdom right now.”

  “Hold on with every—ounce—of––your—strength,” she says through gritted teeth.

  She jerks the steering apparatus sharply to her left, away from me, and the plane lurches violently away from the side of the mountain.

  The sputtering of the engine ceases and all I hear is the wind rushing past us in our rapid descent, and the sounds of our breathing.

  She struggles with the steering, her knuckles turning white in her grip of it.

  “Hold on tight,” she tells me. “We can’t have you falling out of this beast, can we?”

  I increase the strength of my grip on the edges of the box I sit upon.

  “No,” I agree, “no we cannot.”

  The ground is coming at us faster and faster. She grunts and sits back hard against the seat just as the front end pulls up slightly.

  I am gasping for air around my constricted throat. I do not want to die in this strange land. I do not want to lose my love now that I have finally found her.

  PART ONE—KARST

  Three Weeks Earlier

  Chapter One

  The meadow stretches out before me, a blanket of colors that takes my breath away this time of year. The sun is warm on my face, but not so bright and hot yet as to require eye shades. It is my favorite time of year.

  I close my eyes to focus on the buzzing of insects. When I open them, I see the bees as they zip and zigzag around the blossoms.

  I am drawn to a pale-yellow flower and bend to pick it. Within seconds of standing back up, a bee hovers just over it, mesmerizing me. She alights on the flower and I can see, quite clearly, the dusting of pollen on her.

  Another bee joins her.

  “Hello,” I whisper.

  I love my time helping others in Karst, the cave city I have called home for five years now, but there is a freedom of spirit I only know when I stand in the meadow, contemplating flowers and bees during the day, and recharging with the stars at night.

  A third bee joins the others on the blossom and they jockey for position. When the fourth bee lands on my hand instead of the flower, I force my hand to stay steady.

  The energy around me intensifies and I let my mind clear, welcoming the message the bees bring to me.

  I do not hear words, but I know from the flutter in my belly that change is coming. This message I get loud and clear.

  “What is coming my way?” I ask the now dozen or so bees covering my hand.

  I feel the vibration of the bees all through my body. They continue to cover my fingers and hand, and then move down my arm until every inch of skin from my elbow to my fingertips is covered with the insects.

  They feel light and tickle the skin they cover.

  The swarm grows thicker and thicker as the bees alight on one another. I am spellbound by their sound and their energy.

  A shadow moves over us as a cloud drifts in. I glance up just as a bolt of lightning streaks through the sky and the thunder crashes. I jump at the sound and the bees scatter. Before they are all in flight, a stinging sensation pierces the palm of my hand.

  I do not see the bee that has stung me, but I find the stinger. I gently scrape it from my flesh and study the little red dot as it grows larger and angrier against the pale flesh of my palm.

  Then just like that, my fingers tingle and the sting site lightens and shrinks.

  I turn back towards Karst as the first heavy raindrops fall upon my hair.

  †

  I am in the corridor when I catch up to Suzanna. Her long, gray-white hair flows off her shoulders and down her back. When her eyes meet mine, I cannot help but smile.

  “I believe the night will clear soon,” I say.

  “That is good,” Suzanna responds. “How are you today, Misha?”

  I smile. “I am well. Shall I come to you after I spend time under the stars?”

  Now she smiles at me. “That would be lovely, dear.”

  “Will you go testify with the others now?” I ask as I offer her my arm.

  She grasps my elbow and I walk with her to the lounge.

  “I’m not so old that I cannot still get around, you know,” Suzanna says.

  “I know.” I give her a big smile. “Maybe it is I who needs an arm.”

  She rolls her eyes at me.

  “At least I will never be older than Frida or Stella,” she jokes as we enter the lounge area.

  “What?” Stella asks. “What did you say about me?”

  “Nothing dear,” Suzanna says as she winks at me.

  Suzanna gives everyone a bright smile, nodding at a few people, taking the hands of others. I always wonder how it must feel to be so beloved by a community. I have never had that, nor do I begrudge it of Suzanna. She is the warmest, most loving person I have ever known, and worthy of all the love shown her at Karst—and more.

  I take my leave of her and wander back through the corridors to the small, high opening on the north side of the mountain into which Karst is built.

  A young man I do not recognize stands guard at the eight-foot-by-eight-foot opening.

  “Good evening,” I say.

  He locks his gaze onto mine, begins to speak, but then remains silent.

  “I am Misha,” I say. “And I will be stepping out into the night for an hour or so.”

  “You’re the healer,” he whispers, taking a step back.

  I glance down at his feet and arch my brows.

  His eyes go wide as he seems to notice then that, in backing away from me, he has come precariously close to the edge where the narrow steps meet the mouth of the cave.

  I am saddened that after five years there are still people in Karst who fear me. Witch hands.

  “I just need to get past you,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “I will not touch you.”

  “Oh,” he says, blushing. He shakes his head. “It is not that. I’ve just heard about you but haven’t actually seen you. The talk is accurate.”

  “The talk?”

  “About your eyes.” He finally holds my gaze.

  “My eyes?” I ask, confused.

  “They are as beautiful as I have always heard they are.” He looks away.

  I am stunned into silence. Fear about my healing abilities, chants of witch hands, the backing away from me unless someone is in dire need of my energy work, these are the things I expect. But a compliment?

  “So,” I say in a soft voice. “I may pass?”

  “Oh, yes, sorry, absolutely.” He steps to the side and I edge past him.

  Foregoing the stone steps, I take care to watch my footing on the narrow rim as I edge along until I am several yards away. Where the shelf widens there is a concave area where I sit while regenerating under the stars on the nights I choose to do so up here. Some nights the meadow beckons to me, other nights it is here, along the side of this mountain.

  There a
re no longer clouds in the darkening sky. I release my hair from the band holding it behind my head and close my eyes as the last of the light fades. After a few moments, I take a deep breath and open my eyes.

  I stare into the vast number of stars alighting the sky and listen carefully. There is a slight murmur and I am not sure if it is wishful thinking or if I am indeed connecting to the collective consciousness my grandmother was so keen to introduce to me.

  “Help me to heal the hurting, the sick, the injured,” I say in a low voice.

  The glittering sky before me is glorious in its wealth of sparkling stars. I feel my body tingle, grow warm, then surge with energy. The hum that begins deep in my chest is not anything I can control, nor would I want to. The vibration radiates outward, sparking down my arms as I spread them out to my side.

  My mouth opens in a silent scream of wonder at the regeneration every cell in my body undergoes.

  Once the surge of energy through me levels off, I close my eyes again and listen. Will the universe speak to me tonight? Will I understand if she does?

  I hear not a spoken word, but understand it nevertheless. Change. This is the second time I’ve sensed this, the second time I know this without explanation or elaboration. There is no denying that something is stirring, that change is indeed coming.

  †

  After an hour under the stars, I go to Suzanna’s room. Over the last several months I’ve taken to going to her quarters instead of doing our energy work in the meditation room as we once did.

  “May I place my hands on you?” I ask. I always ask.

  Her smile is sweet. “Yes, please do, dear.”

  I kneel behind her and place gentle hands on her shoulders. She relaxes into my touch.

  I smile when she lets out a long sigh.

  I envision the energy leaving my hands and settling in the aching joints of her shoulders. Heal, I think. Heal now.

  My hands grow warm as I move them in small circles, barely touching her.

  “Thank you for this,” she whispers.