Page 1 of Broken Veil
CHAPTER ONE
Carys Morgan pulled on the heavy pine doors, then stepped into the barn to see her father working at his bench.
Light slanted through the high window that faced the west, fine sawdust floated gently in the air, and the smell of fresh cedar hit her nose along with the scent of soap, lemon, and beeswax.
Gareth Morgan glanced up. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
She looked around, confused by the disordered workshop that surrounded her. There was a table leg sitting near the lathe in the corner and a half-finished spice rack that should be complete and hanging on the wall of the kitchen.
There was a nearly finished bookcase propped against the back wall. Her father had made it for her when she rented her first apartment. She’d put it in her childhood bedroom when she moved home after her parents’ death.
“Dad?”
Her father wore a pair of clear goggles as he sanded a dusty piece of maple on the table in front of him. He put the sanding block down and swiped his hands over his jeans. “All right, my girl?”
Carys blinked. “You’re wearing safety glasses.”
“Of course I am.”
“Even when you’re dead?”
Gareth shook his head and frowned a little bit. “That’s no reason to be careless.”
She walked over and perched on a metal stool her father had scavenged from the old high school woodshop. The seat was ancient, but it didn’t squeak or grind when she spun it around.
Of course not. Nothing squeaked in Gareth Morgan’s workshop.
He leaned forward, propping his hands on the scarred bench. “It’s good to see you.”
“I’m dreaming.”
“Course you are.” His mouth curled in a crooked smile. “Best way to spend your time when you’re asleep.”
The room around her was a construction of her subconscious, an amalgamation of childhood memories, hopes, and unfinished business. The table leg was from her bedroom desk. The spice rack was for her mother, as was the cutting board her father was sanding.
“What do you need, Carys?”
“Why did we leave Wales?”
He smirked a little bit. “You never asked that when I was alive.”
“I always meant to.”
“Better not to leave a task unfinished, my girl.” His voice grew soft. “Say what you mean to say. And if a job can be done in the moment?—”
“Do it before you forget.”
Gareth nodded. “Exactly.”
She asked again, “Why did we leave Wales?”
He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “I expect you understand better now than you would have when you were a girl.”
“Because Mom came from the Shadows.”
Gareth closed his eyes. “The Brightlands where I grew up was both too familiar and too foreign for your mother,” he said. “Better a place that was new to both of us. You were born in Caernarfon, as agreed?—”
“Agreed by whom?”
