The Slug Queen Chronicles - Season One Boxed Set Read online

  The Slug Queen Chronicles

  Season One

  S. O. Thomas

  Illustrated by

  Corina Alvarez Loeblich

  Contents

  I. The Invisible Truth

  1. Episode One

  2. Episode Two

  3. Episode Three

  4. Episode Four

  5. Episode Five

  6. Episode Six

  7. Episode Seven

  II. The Land Of Aery

  8. Episode Eight

  9. Episode Nine

  10. Episode Ten

  11. Episode Eleven

  12. Episode Twelve

  13. Episode Thirteen

  14. Episode Fourteen

  III. Shade Secrets

  15. Episode Fifteen

  16. Episode Sixteen

  17. Episode Seventeen

  18. Episode Eighteen

  19. Episode Nineteen

  20. Episode Twenty

  21. Episode Twenty-One

  IV. Friend Or Faux

  22. Episode Twenty-Two

  23. Episode Twenty-Three

  24. Episode Twenty-Four

  25. Episode Twenty-Five

  26. Episode Twenty-Six

  27. Episode Twenty-Seven

  28. Episode Twenty-Eight

  Aeryland Glossary

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  Also by S. O. Thomas

  Untitled

  Copyright © 2019 by S. O. Thomas

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  www.ichigoblackbooks.com

  * * *

  Library of Congress Control Number:2019920958

  Thomas, S.O.

  The Slug Queen Chronicles / by S.O. Thomas. — 1st ed.

  Summary: With the help of a mysterious black cat, Cricket falls head first into a dangerous new world on a quest to save her brother from the tooth fairies.

  ISBN 978-1-951406-00-4

  * * *

  Cover & Illustrations by Corina Alvarez Loeblich

  www.corina.ink

  To Kyoko, of course—

  * * *

  And to my mom, Janet, Sarah, Corina, and Evelyn for always believing in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.

  Part I

  The Invisible Truth

  Episode One

  The Gift

  Every year, Dad handed me two presents on my birthday. One from him—always something practical like new books or an identical pair of my favorite jeans. The other also from Dad, but with ‘Mom’ written in the from section. Those presents were different. They were always pieces of me I didn’t know had been missing until I ripped open the paper. So on my twelfth birthday, I couldn’t wait to see what part of Mom he’d share next.

  I traced the grooves on the silver locket around my neck. I’d received this—with a photo of Mom inside—on my eighth birthday, a jewelry box on my ninth, my first journal on my tenth, and a membership to the Museum of Natural History on my eleventh. Dad’s memory of Mom seemed to know me better than he did. Because of this tradition, it was like I had memories of her too, even though she died on the day I was born. Dad had turned that painful reminder into something to look forward to.

  I glanced in his direction. He and my stepmother, Janice, stood in front of the sink. Janice hummed while they finished drying the dishes. Dad usually joined in, throwing in the occasional shimmy because he knew it made me laugh, but this time, he stood there stiff and hunched over. Faint green scent trails from Janice’s body lotion clung to his clothes where she’d recently rubbed his shoulders.

  Dad had told me back when I was nine that the colored dust was my way of coping with my sensory sensitivities since it usually showed up (one color for each of my senses) for things that overwhelmed me. Shades of green for extreme smells, blue for things that hurt my eyes, yellow for foods that made me gag, orange for light or unexpected touch, and red for loud, repetitive, soothing or sudden noises.

  Penny, my best friend, leaned closer. “I bought you a present with my allowance, but I dropped it in a muddy puddle on the way here.” She pointed to a soggy pile near her shoes by the back door. “It’s a pocket planner with a cute frog on the cover, but it’s probably ruined. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Maybe we can explain what happened and get it exchanged.” I turned to Dad. “Right?”

  Dad stood near the counter, his hand frozen in midair like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He nodded slowly, lowered his arm, and walked to the other side of the kitchen.

  Janice joined us at the table, taking the empty seat next to Penny. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks, Janice,” I mumbled, still watching Dad.

  He pulled a wrinkled gift off the shelf over the microwave and placed it in front of me.

  To Cricket, From Dad… and Janice.

  Ignoring the addition to the gift tag, I leaned over, trying to see where Dad had hidden the second present. There was nothing visible in his pockets or up his sleeves. I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dry. There’d been many changes since Dad remarried; even more after the new baby. Our tradition was the one thing that had stayed exactly the same… Until now.

  My shoulders sagged. It was like the oxygen in the room had been used up by everyone else until there was nothing left for me—or I forgot how to breathe.

  “You okay, Cricket? You look like you might barf,” Penny said. We’d been friends since we were four. If anyone knew my about-to-barf-face, it would be her. This time she was wrong. I wasn’t going to be sick, but my insides were all knotted up.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak yet, and tore away the wrapping paper. Each rip sent small whorls of red dancing across my skin, but I barely noticed the soothing sensation they left behind. I set the latest book from my favorite series on the table and forced a smile that felt more like a grimace.

  “You don’t like it?” Dad asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “I do… It’s just—” My words fluttered away before I could spit them out. Everyone stared, waiting for me to turn thoughts into words—something that seemed easier for everyone else. I wanted to say of course I liked the book. I always liked the book and the comfy jeans and the tagless t-shirts that didn’t make my skin itch. But how could I tell Dad what I really looked forward to were the gifts he pretended were from Mom? I bit my bottom lip instead. The pop of orange dusty sparks as my tooth dug into the skin made me flinch.

  “I think you forgot something, Mr. Kane,” Penny said, breaking the crushing silence.

  “I know.” Dad’s smile didn’t match the faraway look in his eyes. “I’m sorry. This time—” He paused. “Your mom...”

  I sat up straighter. Dad said my birthdays were always hard for him, because even though he was happy to have me, it still reminded him of what we both lost in the process. Maybe that was why he never talked about Mom, even now. He always let the presents speak for him. Maybe he didn’t know hearing stories about her would be better than anything he could wrap up in a box.

  Janice rubbed Dad’s back like she did with baby Tristan when he needed to burp. “It’s alright, honey. She’ll f
orgive you.”

  Forgive him? Did that mean he’d run out of ideas for the kind of presents he thought Mom would choose if she were still alive?

  Dad took a deep breath. “Your—um—colored dust. Well… Your mom saw it too.”

  “What do you mean?” I gulped. “You said that was my imagination.”

  “I know.” Dad looked at his feet. “At first I thought you’d gotten into your mom’s things and were playing one of her games. When I found out you weren’t pretending, I didn’t know how to tell you because I don’t understand it. She had plenty of tests done. They never found anything wrong with her, so I knew you were fine. The colors are harmless, but…”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Dad let me think it was all in my head. He knew Mom saw the colored dust too and he kept it from me. My chin lowered to my chest. How could he do that?

  “I’m so sorry.” Dad sighed. “I tried to do this so many times. When you were younger you still believed in things like fairies and monsters hiding under beds. I didn’t want to confuse you. Now you’re older, maybe you’ll see past the fairy tales and find comfort in her words. It was wrong of me to keep it from you for so long.” Dad reached for Janice’s hand. “Janice helped me see I can’t hold onto it anymore.”

  I didn't want to hear fairy tales, I wanted to hear about Mom. Not just about the colored dust—I wanted to know what kind of person she was, her least favorite foods, and if she had trouble knowing how to be normal like I did.

  Dad glanced away as wetness crept into his eyes.

  “At least you know you’re not hallucinating,” Penny said. “I always thought you made the whole thing up as an excuse to avoid eating in the cafeteria.”

  I balled my fists. Dad let Penny think I was lying. He let me think I was crazy!

  A sneeze came from the baby monitor sitting in the middle of the table. My muscles tensed, waiting to see if Tristan would wake up and shift the attention away from me. The tiny screen showed Tristan wiggling around in his crib, but he didn’t open his eyes. Not losing myself in the swirling red waves of his babbling was usually a good thing, but this time it might have been a relief.

  “Can I check on him, Mrs. Kane?” Penny asked.

  “Me too,” I said, glad for a break to sort through my thoughts.

  “When he cries you can both check on him with me, okay?” Janice said.

  Penny slumped in her seat. “He never cries.”

  “Then we can check on him after we’re done here. This was important to Cricket’s mom, okay sweetie?” Janice patted Penny’s arm. “We thought it would be best if you heard about it from us so Cricket wouldn’t have to try to explain it later. We know she tells you everything. We need you to be supportive.” Janice turned her attention back to Dad. “Go on, before you change your mind again.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. How would Janice know what was important to Mom? Not only had Dad lied to me, he’d also talked to Janice about Mom… without me. Was that why he was acting this way? Why he changed my birthday routine without telling me? Dad’s mouth started moving, but the sounds didn’t make sense. I closed my eyes and focused on one word at a time—Mom… wild... imagination—until the sounds in between were words again.

  “...wanted answers, so she might have made them up.” Dad lowered his head. “You’ve got her inquisitive mind, so I didn’t want you to get wrapped up in this stuff the way she did. But I know she’d be disappointed if she knew I kept this from you. I’m—” He swallowed his words.

  “It’s okay, Tom. I’ll get it.” Janice made her way to the counter where Dad had been lurking earlier.

  I watched a lingering trail of green dust inch up Penny’s arm where Janice had touched her and decided I needed Dad to keep talking. Even if it meant listening to fairy tales. This was the most he’d ever said about Mom. If she could see the colored dust too, I needed to hear everything.

  Janice opened the cupboard. Between the spare toaster and Dad’s coffee mugs sat an old shoe box. Janice pulled it out and placed it in front of me. “Happy birthday, Cricket. It’s an extra special gift from your mom.”

  I scrunched my forehead. If the gift from Mom had been here the whole time, why didn’t Dad give it to me when he gave me the other present—like always? Why would he let Janice give it to me instead? Janice had moved in almost two years ago, but that didn’t mean she got to change our tradition. And I still didn’t understand what Mom’s gift this year had to do with the colored dust and fairy tales.

  Penny spoke before I could. “Are you going to say something crazy like you’re hiding a fairy in there?”

  Janice laughed. “Maybe we are.”

  “Don’t encourage them,” Dad said in a low voice.

  Penny’s thinking face—wrinkles on her forehead and lips pressed together—told me she was also having trouble processing this. Understanding the difference between the words people used and what they actually meant was like a game of connect-the-dots. The words were the dots and the shape was the meaning. I saw plenty of things Penny couldn’t, but she always saw the meaning before I did.

  I turned my attention to the box. Maybe my answers were in there.

  Janice rested her chin on the top of my head—chin kisses we called them—and gave my arm a firm squeeze. “Open it. I’m glad your dad didn’t donate this with the rest of her things.”

  A lump formed in my throat. “You mean this is actually from Mom?”

  Dad nodded and pushed the box closer with a shaky hand.

  I ran a finger along the edges of my locket, then dropped my hand to brush the dust off the top of the worn, brown cardboard. As I eased the cover off, a musty cloud of swamp green clumps shot into the air, darting back and forth like bumble bees fighting over a flower. I waved them away with the cover until the smell was bearable. Then I peered inside.

  Frowning, I pulled out a folded black pillowcase, some twine, three cloves of shriveled garlic, two gold bells, a handful of marbles, and a rectangular mouse trap with No-Kill printed on the side. At the bottom of the box was a leather-bound journal like the one I received on my tenth birthday. I slid the book out and opened it to the first page. Messy handwriting filled the lined paper—The Invisible Truth by Lina Watson (with help from Maria Garcia). My mouth dropped open as I flipped through pages and pages of detailed notes and observations starting from when the author was eight, all the way to thirteen.

  “Lina Watson…” I glanced at Dad. “Mom wrote this?” I’d filled my journal with facts and observations too—mostly on extinct animals I’d seen on my visits to the museum. Kids at school thought I was weird for walking around with a journal full of research not for a school project. But maybe Mom had done the same thing.

  Dad wiped at his face with the back of his hand. “You’re a lot like her, kiddo.” He stood and turned away.

  “It’s okay Tom…” Janice said softly. “This is the right thing to do.”

  “What’s it say?” Penny peeked over my shoulder as I flipped through the pages.

  “It lists observations about the colors and shapes of the dust Mom saw and what triggered them. She describes the same blue dots following her in bright sunlight and the permanent puke green cloud that hangs out in the cafeteria.” But the more I read, the less Mom talked about the dust. “It’s mostly her trying to figure out where the dust came from. She seemed sure tooth fairies would have the answers.”

  Mom spent the second half of her notes exploring her theory about the dust having magical properties. The world around me slowed to a crawl as Dad’s words and their meaning took shape in my mind. That’s why he kept this from me. He didn’t want me to know Mom had been the crazy one.

  “Those don’t sound like tooth fairies to me.” Penny pushed her glasses higher up her nose, squinting to read the scribbled words before I flipped to another page. “I thought they were supposed to leave money, not—”

  “The boogeyman!” Janice said in a creepy voice, chasing Penny aroun
d the table with her hands snapping at the empty air between them.

  "A boogie," Penny corrected, using the exact term Mom had written—referring to the creature a tooth fairy had supposedly left in exchange for a tooth.

  Janice wiggled her fingers on the back of Penny’s neck.

  I lowered my head, leaving Penny to Janice’s tickle torture, and walked over to Dad. “Are they laughing at Mom?”

  “No, kiddo. I think Janice is trying to lighten the mood the only way she knows how—laughter.” Dad placed Mom’s objects back in the box. “I’m sure your mom imagined she’d be the one sharing this with you. She always insisted this box held answers you might go looking for one day, like she did. She said she found them, so I think the answers are in there somewhere. Why don’t you two take it upstairs and give it a closer look? Try to see past the fantasy stuff and focus on the connection you shared. She hated eating in the cafeteria too.”

  Dad winked and gave me a chin kiss. As he slid the cover back on the box, he whispered, “I’ll sneak two more slices of cake up to your room after Janice and I clean up down here.” He turned away and sprayed cleaning solution on the already clean counter.

  I still didn’t understand why this was so important to Mom, but I was glad Dad had finally told me the truth. I picked up the box, hugging it close to my chest. He’d given me a real connection to Mom. She was like me. This journal was supposed to explain what that meant. If I wanted answers, I had to figure out why Mom thought I’d find them chasing fairy tales. I waved the journal in front of Penny. “You interested?”