Equinox (Augarten Book 1) Read online

  Equinox

  Augarten Book One

  Charlie Godwyne

  Copyright © 2019 by Charlie Goodwyne

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Acknowledgements

  I want to thank Margaret, Carly, Sasha, Amy, Becky, Kirk, and Kiki for manuscript reads. Thanks to Ben for the Welsh help, Johanna for the Austrian filter, and Valerie for the title. For two reads, advice and support, I want to thank Joey. And for six reads, a dozen brainstorming sessions, a treasured friendship, and constant encouragement, I want to thank Diana. If I had fire lizard eggs, I'd give you one.

  Thanks to Nat of Kanaxa Designs for the cover.

  To Bob.

  Synopsis

  No memory is just the beginning of his troubles…

  Not knowing who he is or how he ended up naked in a park, Gabriel struggles to understand what's happened to him and how to move forward. It isn't long before he realizes he isn't like everyone else. Plants and people glow with magic all around him, and he's actually able to talk to his very own guardian angel—even though his angel won't tell him anything about his past.

  As he tries to learn something about his life before, Gabriel finds himself inexplicably drawn to two very different men: Solomon, the exorcist priest who found him and has been helping him try to remember who he was, and Florian, an occultist coffeeshop owner whose own tragic past allows him to accept Gabriel as he is.

  As Gabriel's health begins to dwindle—and not even his angel can explain why—he scrambles to find answers before he's taken away from the happiness he's found and the men he loves.

  But without the foundation of a past, Gabriel worries the life he's building will crumble around him.

  Equinox is the first in the Augarten series and is an 84,000-word MMM romance with magical realism, an amnesiac willing to try just about anything to remember, a priest with unpriestly thoughts, and lots and lots of espresso.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  I woke to a night full of stars. Gravel and twigs bit into my skin. Pushing up from the ground, I breathed the exhalations of trees: a deep, heavy blanket of earth and damp leaves.

  Standing on shaky legs, I put a hand on the trunk next to me to steady myself. The tree's slow-moving energy slid over my hand and up my arm. With the energy came gentle words, suggestions of thoughts I could not interpret. Scanning the hulking oak, I wondered what it might be trying to tell me. Then I wondered why I thought an oak talking to me was normal.

  Looking around, I stood inside a garden, bricked in with high walls that extended just above my height. Red tiling on the wall caps mimicked the ceramic shingles on the roofs of nearby buildings. The sky told me it was late evening, a rich dark blue releasing the last whispers of dusk into the inky black of night. Everything in the garden was lit with a soft glow, as if the light of the full moon were hidden behind a chimney. The rustling of the wind through branches was the only sound that reached me, no passing traffic or car horns honking, no birdsong.

  Inhale, exhale. I tried walking, my movements jerky and fast compared to the stationary foliage around me. Glancing down, I found myself naked—why was I in public without clothes on? Where were all the people? Where were the birds?

  Pricking the soles of my feet on the gravel path, I carefully picked my way over to the lush grass nearby. This was not a wild forest, nor had it ever been, if my instincts proved correct, though I did not know from whence such instincts came. Irrationally, I heard the rushing of water as an undercurrent from centuries ago. This garden sat on an ancient floodplain.

  The path led to a massive stone tower. It had a desolate energy to it, as if it radiated painful blood-reds against the rich royal blue of the sky. It loomed over everything, fenced off so that no one could walk up to its face and touch it. Yet someone had: large black and white letters spray-painted across the front declared Never Again!

  The words flashed, and the feel of the air around me changed, like I had been transported somehow, yet I stood in the same spot. A menacing black energy radiated off the tower. I panned slowly out to take in more of the sky, saw the red along the horizon and knew I was in a different time, knew that I was somehow able to see magic. Blackout curtains pulled tightly shut in all the windows of the surrounding skyline. Bright sparks dotted the distant hillsides that rose above the buildings. Finally, I heard humans.

  Urgent voices reached me from atop the tower as unseen airplanes rumbled in the distance. Rushed, panicked words, globs of sound I almost understood. Then the barrel of a huge gun stuck over the top, pointed skyward as an aircraft roared ever closer. The anti-aircraft artillery ripped through the night, a firing so loud I screamed.

  My knees hit gravel, jolting me. The night returned to its deep, dark blue, now a comfort compared to the scene that had seized me. Scrambling to my feet, I swayed and almost lost my balance.

  "Can you please speak to me?" I begged of the trees, since no one else was around. "Can you tell me why I am here, what my name is? Why does everything glow like this?"

  No response. I staggered to another path, hoping to find someone, anyone who could get me out of this nightmarish garden, away from that terrible red memory. The gentle breeze that brushed past me had a color, the same powdery white of a full moon. On instinct, I knew that if I could just get a view of the moon, I would feel more grounded. But no matter how far I wandered into the open space, the moon remained concealed behind the rooftops. I turned a corner and at the end of the path stood another tower, this one rectangular, with the same deep tension barely sealed within.

  I whimpered, tearing at my face, pulling my hair and wrenching away from the tower. Flailing around for a safe place to hide, I spotted a glowing circle ten paces across on the grass and dashed toward it. I jumped into the circle before I could even question how I knew it was safe. White light burst forth when I entered, as if activated. Pearly white liquid pooled in the shape of footprints on the ground, but the light also rose like a mist to protect me. I felt safe and warm in the circle, but I could not find the person who had left the footprints.

  Here.

  I gasped and froze. As if someone had cupped a hand against my cheek and pulled, my head turned to face a massive tree, another old oak. It seemed to reach out to me with its branches.

  Come here.

  I walked toward the tree on the edge of the circle as if propelled. When it wrapped me in its branches, I lost consciousness.

  Chapter Two

  Cold water hit my face. A low voice spoke, rich as amber. "High Archangel Gabriel, protect us with your divine strength from the evils of this world. Please help me and this man before me."

  I flinched as more chilled water splashed across my bod
y. Bright green grass…someone with black leather shoes close by. Daylight now, but I had no notion of how much time had passed. Aching, I angled my face up to find a man in his thirties in a black robe fastened at the collar. He had rich mahogany curls and a tan face. A shadow of stubble across his jaw, and when he turned toward me, the most startlingly blue eyes.

  "Is that my name?" I asked. "Gabriel?"

  Those eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion. "Are you hurt? Do you need me to call an ambulance?"

  I shook my head, then in horror realized I was still naked.

  The man unclasped his robe and slid it off. Underneath, he wore a black cassock and the white collar of a Catholic priest. He draped his cloak over me, but otherwise did not react at seeing another man naked.

  I sat up, leaning against the tree. "Where am I? What am I doing here?"

  "You are in Vienna, Austria," the priest said. "This is Augarten—a public park and city farm."

  "What day is it?"

  He checked his watch. "Today is August first, 2025."

  I struggled to reconcile that I wasn't inside that nightmare anymore, unable to calm my heart that was trying to beat its way out of my chest. Gentle birdsong soothed me, and a starling flitted by. So I wasn't in the past, during the war. This was 2025. "And the towers?"

  He blinked, then cocked his head over his shoulder. "Those?"

  I glanced behind him, and indeed, there stood the circular tower from my dream. "Yes. I must have had a nightmare when I fell asleep here."

  The priest looked sympathetic. "Those were anti-aircraft towers, built during the war. There's a couple more throughout town, so sturdily built the city eventually decided to just leave them. The amount of explosives it would take to dismantle them would risk damage to other buildings."

  I nodded. "I don't know why I am here."

  "Can you stand?"

  "Yes." Trembling so hard I all but quaked, I finally got my feet under me and clutched the robe like a protective blanket. "Sorry about this."

  "No apologies necessary. First things first, let's get you inside."

  The priest steadied me with an arm around my waist, and we made our way carefully across the garden. My feet trailed blood on the gravel. Hiding my wince with each step, I glanced around. This was the same garden as before, but I could not hear the voices of the trees. Without the moon, I could not see the magic dancing in the air. I felt a dull, jarring effect, as if I had been stuffed inside a tiny, cramped space.

  Up ahead, away from the looming circular tower, stood uniform white buildings with red tiled rooftops. The final stretch from the last patch of garden to the first door had to be done on gravel. I clenched my jaw and stepped carefully, the rocks tearing the soles of my feet. The priest gripped me hard, allowing me to give some weight to him.

  We finally made it to the door and the priest pushed it open. "Here we are."

  I hesitated, wobbling onto the sides of my feet. "I've bled on the carpet."

  Those blue eyes shot to my feet. From his worried expression, he too felt a pain that mirrored my own. He was a good person.

  The priest wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "You're all right. Don't worry about the carpets. Let's get you to the lounge so you can sit."

  We followed a narrow hallway with paintings on the walls. We wrapped around, a radio playing somewhere past the corner. The priest guided me to a large room with rows of tables and what looked like a community kitchen off to one side.

  A woman had been singing along, but at our entrance she fell quiet.

  The priest helped me to the nearest chair. "Andrea, could you get us some clothing? I found him unconscious under a tree."

  The salt- and pepper-haired woman of late middle age leapt from her seat. "I'll see what we've got in our lost and found box. Be right back, Solomon."

  "Solomon," I echoed. "Thank you for your help."

  He gave a small, private smile, then guided me to sit down. "I'll see what they've got to eat."

  He rummaged in the fridge and then in the cabinets. I leaned over the table, desperate for some privacy, and mortified to be sitting in a priest's cloak with my bare ass. Terror coursed through me when I struggled to recall anything from before that dreamlike night in the gardens. No matter how many times I tried to remember, I came up empty.

  "Here we go."

  Solomon placed a tray with a chaotic assortment of snacks on the table in front of me: crackers, cookies, olives, deli cheeses, carrot sticks, celery, cherry tomatoes and a pitcher of water. My hands still trembled violently. Solomon saved me by pouring a glass.

  He sat next to me. "Do you remember how you wound up there?"

  I shook my head.

  He let out a slow breath. "Drink more water. Let your brain recover. It'll come back."

  I ate and drank while Andrea procured me some clothing. She showed me to a side closet and I changed into a huge baggy shirt with holes in it and ripped sweatpants. Lost and found box indeed. I felt like I had been tossed in the lost and found myself. Andrea spoke in soft tones I still managed to hear.

  "Do you think he's on drugs? He doesn't look homeless."

  Solomon hummed in consternation. He must not realize he had such a gorgeous voice.

  "That height…he could be foreign," Andrea continued. "But how would he have crossed a border and made it this far? And without clothes? Though I guess Bratislava is only an hour or so by train."

  "He speaks German," Solomon said.

  They quieted further and I strained to hear, my heart pounding.

  "Is it Viennese German? Native?"

  Solomon hesitated. "No."

  My heart dropped. I did not know where I was from, but I wasn't from here.

  I opened the closet door and stepped out, silencing the conversation. Taking my seat, I touched eyes with each of them. "Thank you so much for the food. And sorry for the trouble. I'm still quite foggy on what happened."

  Andrea smiled and patted my hand. "Eat some more, and things will return. For starters, what is your name?"

  I faltered. "Um—"

  "His name is Gabriel," Solomon cut in. "He told me out in the garden."

  Closing my eyes, I swallowed the lie, grateful Solomon was willing to cover for me.

  Andrea patted my hand again, a smile reaching her gentle green eyes. "Gabriel, why don't you go with Solomon after you finish eating? There's a doctor nearby, then you can check in with the police."

  "Okay."

  Eating the rest of the food on the tray, I managed to compartmentalize my fear until I could examine it later. Andrea couldn't find shoes that fit me, but she procured two large mismatched socks, which was better than nothing. Outside again, Solomon led me to a garden spigot and I washed the blood off my feet. "Do you think I'm a drug addict, or have Alzheimer's, or something?"

  Solomon eyed me sympathetically. "You're so young. You have to be around my age. Alzheimer's at thirty can happen, but that's a tragedy. If this was caused by drugs, then at least you could detox and get your life back."

  I scoffed, massaging the cuts to make them bleed a bit and wash out any remaining grit. "I hope I'm not a drug addict."

  That got him to chuckle, which made me smile.

  We left the gardens and I turned around at the gate to read the name on the plaque. "So this whole place is called Augarten?"

  Solomon nodded. "This complex holds the large park we saw, the farm, and a few other things for the community, like a kindergarten. Andrea manages the city farm."

  I attempted to parse the compound word. "Garten is of course garden. What is the Au?"

  Solomon's eyes shone with sympathy. "An Au is a floodplain. This area was built up by the Hapsburgs during the Holy Roman Empire to prevent the Danube from flooding Vienna."

  I wondered whether I had known that before I lost my memories. "I see."

  He took me to a physician who apparently had connections to the order of priests Solomon belonged to. The doctor said he was willing to treat me even
though I had no insurance. The old man had me drink a glass of water, then drew blood. "I can order a full range of tests, but that means I'll need six vials, Gabriel. Maybe you and Father Solomon should go for a meal afterwards."

  Solomon nodded. "Understood."

  By the time the doctor finished with me, I felt drained dry. Hungry, and now a bit woozy, I blinked and pinched myself. I felt if I let my eyes relax out of focus, that magical vision might return. Though I had felt safe in that beautiful white circle with the footprints, I did not want to return to that nightmare of the red towers.

  The old doctor had me follow his finger with my eyes and then performed a couple of tests for a concussion. "No traumatic brain injury from what I can see. I'll send the vials off to the lab and call once I get the results back."

  I thanked the doctor, but hesitated, unwilling to leave with no more answers than when I came in. "How can I not remember anything if I am not injured?"

  Solomon stood off to the side, concern written on his features.

  The old physician shook his head. "It's good to not have brain damage, young man. No signs of stroke, either. If all the tests come back negative, we'll simply go from there."

  I stared at him, lost and needing answers.

  He continued. "In the meantime: extreme stress is the most likely culprit for amnesia at your age, so get some rest and take care of yourself. Maybe things will come back in a few days."

  "Thank you."