M.M. Marsden

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Read the first chapter

✨Exclusive Sneak Peak✨

Step into Jane’s shoes and experience the opening chapter of Smoke & Stars, Book One of The Source of Light Series.

Smoke & Stars

Chapter One

Jane

Squelch. Squelch.

My worn-out boots squished miserably with every step I took along the concrete sidewalk. Winter was nearing its bitter end, and the falling snow could no longer hold its frozen form. Instead, the flakes smothered the bustling city in a perpetual, unpleasant in-between state. No, not the dazzling sheen of water or ice. Far worse: dirt-brown slush.

A freezing sensation pricked my left big toe, immediately spreading like an ice-cold wave to the others. I jolted mid-step on the pavement and lifted my foot to assess the damage to the sole.

An inevitable hole had ripped open the bottom rubber layer, one that would only worsen with every step I took.

I tilted my face to the sky, squeezing my eyes shut as an unruly frustration bubbled up inside my chest. For a moment, I wanted to scream, wanted to curse whatever God was out there—laughing, I presumed. Instead, I sucked in a bitter lungful of stinging, frigid air, letting it bite my chest before exhaling all the wrath threatening to boil over into the street.

Payday wasn’t until Friday, and I had only twenty dollars left to my name. New shoes weren’t—couldn’t be—an option at this time. Maybe I could swing by the thrift store before work and find a decent pair for a few bucks? But their prices had been skyrocketing lately, and even that might be out of reach.

Not that it mattered. I didn’t have time. My shift at the diner was about to start.

The diner was busier than usual and sweat began to collect under my arms as I juggled multiple plates with both hands. Wobbling through the narrow aisles, strands of my messy bun tickled the sticky high points of my cheeks as I delivered each dish with as much grace and care as I could muster. Of course, I was only met with the barest of acknowledgments, if that.

Still, I plastered on a wide, cheesy smile, fiendishly flashing my teeth and flirtatiously batting my lashes, hoping to charm my way to better tips using the only thing God had ever given me: my looks. My survival depended on them.

As I slid onto the oil-slicked kitchen floor, nearly losing my balance in the process, the chef, Richard—at least twenty years my senior—let his hair-raising gaze crawl over me. His eyes gushed with hunger like a wolf sizing up a sheep. His tongue disgustingly sucked on his bottom lip.

I tried my best to ignore his obvious leering, focusing on my work instead and pretending he didn’t exist.

As always, he made his presence impossible to ignore. His grovelling, venomous hiss slithered above the clatter of pots and low murmur of diners. “Jane, oh Jane, oh Jane, when, oh when, are you going to let me take you out? Look at you. Always so alone. Always so quiet.”

A foul, bitter and hot bile rose to the back of my throat, threatening to spew out onto the murky tile below my feet. I spun on my heel to face the creep, my eyes locking onto his greasy face. He wore the dumbest of grins, as if he believed himself the cleverest man alive.

My jaw clenched tight enough to ache before I finally forced the words out as placidly as I could. “As I’ve told you before, Richard, I do not want to go out with you.”

My tone was firm, but I doubted it would do much good. Richard was like too many other men I’d encountered in my brief time; he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Richard’s shoulders dramatically slumped as he released an exasperated huff. “Come on, Janie. It’s not like you’ve got a line of suitors waiting for you down the block.” His spatula-filled hand swatted towards the imaginary road at our sides. “Why don’t we go out to dinner, and, I don’t know, maybe afterward we can head back to my place, watch a movie, and…see what happens.”

The corners of my lips curled back into a deep frown. “Richard,” I sizzled through grated teeth, “I’d rather throw myself off a building than ever go on a date with you, let alone anything else.”

The chef’s posture stiffened as though I’d physically struck him with a metal bar. His once proud grin morphed instead into an ugly and enraged snarl. “Hey, fuck you, you little bitch!” he barked, pointing an accusatory finger at me. The garish outburst turned heads, startling patrons who had been trying to enjoy their meals. “You’d be so lucky to have me take you out for a meal, you starving little street rat!”

I didn’t flinch. Ignoring his tantrum, I calmly gathered the plates I needed and returned to my work.

Sure, I could go to management and report the endless weeks of sexual harassment I’d endured, but what good would it do? The odds of a woman being believed over a man like Richard were slim to none. And then what? I’d be out of a job, out of a home, with nowhere to go.

I couldn’t risk it.

And so, for the millionth time in my life, I held my chin high, forcing myself to endure it all as I waited and served, desperate for a few measly dollars to scrape by and survive.

Luckily, my shift flew by, and it was already time for the diner to close. I clocked out as quickly as possible, eager to leave the restaurant before Richard had a chance to slink out of the kitchen. 

I stuffed my things into my backpack, slipped on my battered old boots, shrugged into my patchy coat, and bolted through the door. The chilly winter breeze hit me like a welcome slap, drying the still damp patches of sweat clinging to my body.

The city streets were far more vacant than usual, and I savoured the rare peace it gave me. Most nights, I practically jogged home. The darkness bred the city’s worst. Their vile catcalls and intrusive hands made the journey unbearable.

But tonight was different. Tonight felt different. Tonight, I strolled leisurely, unhurriedly, taking my time as I mulled over the events and choices that had led me to this miserable existence.

For two years now, I’d been completely on my own, cut loose from the foster care system at the ripe old age of eighteen. Sure, assigned social workers did their best to connect you with resources—group homes to give you a place to stay, food stamps, programs to help you transition. None of it seemed to get me very far. Despite all the so-called support, I still lived in the grip of poverty having barely enough to eat, barely enough to live.

As I illegally cut through the vacant park on Datforth Drive, my thoughts snagged on something—an unsettling feeling, as though I were not alone, as though I was being watched.

I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing. I checked my other shoulder. Also nothing. With every swivel of my chin, the same answer greeted me: I was alone. So very alone in this nearly pitch-black, abandoned park.

Or was I?

There were no sounds, no footsteps echoing mine, no faint glint of a flashlight or heavy breath cutting through the wintry night air. Yet, my animalistic instincts screamed otherwise. The hair on the back of my neck prickled and stood upright as my gut churned.

You’re losing it, Jane… 

Halfway through the park, my anxiety bubbled over into reality. Stopping dead in my tracks, I spun in desperate circles, scanning the shadows of the trees for the threat I knew deep down was there. My heart pounded, each beat like a hammer in my chest.

I must have looked like a madwoman.

In an attempt to steady my heaving breaths, I sank onto a nearby park bench, nearly buckling in the process. Gripping the sides of the wood with both hands, so tightly it might have snapped, I forced myself to count from one to ten. Focus. Calm down. Slow the rising tide of panic.

I am alone. I am okay. No one is there, I repeated to myself.

Within seconds, a soundless blazing light erupted in the night. A perfect circle of brilliance hovered above me, shattering the stillness.

My gaze snapped upward, drawn to the source paralyzing me with fear. The light was striking, overwhelming, unwillingly searing itself into my brain as if I had been hypnotized. Before I could even comprehend what was happening, the glow shot downward, encasing me in a radiant, white sphere.

Should I have fought? Screamed? Run? Yes, I should have done something.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Everything happened so fast. All I could do was helplessly watch my own abduction.

And then, as the whirring light above intensified, the glowing sphere lifted me from the ground, carrying me into the empty nothingness above.

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