No rest for the Wiccan.
One year has passed since Zoë Delante’s last big case, and everyone’s favorite Wiccan has managed to carve a normal-ish life for herself and her boyfriends, Jacob and Daniel. Then she gets the call that someone has discarded dead babies like empty soda cans off I-295 in the Baltimore/D.C. area, leaving strange scales all over the crime scenes. Another serial killer?
Zoë dives into the case when her one-year-old niece comes up missing, and she discovers that the guy running the Church of Holy Light knows magick and lies about it. Is he the one behind the mind control? Did he send the guys to drop magick all over her sister’s house?
And what the hell is up with her magick?
The visions are getting stronger, and weirder, and Zoë can’t remember the last time she slept. No matter. She has bad guys to catch and innocents to save. She’ll sleep when she’s dead….
…Or when the killer is.
EXERPT
I sighed, and Sera squeezed my hand again as we stepped away from the dais and into the darkness. The temperature plunged, and we gasped in unison. My breath billowed in a delicate cloud.
“What now?” My hands went frigid, so I could hardly feel my sister’s hand. “Sera?”
“Yeah, I feel it too.”
The darkness swirled in front of us.
That’s new. I blinked and refocused, and yep, it was moving.
The ebony entity continued its curvaceous dance, sending foggy fingers over my bared skin. It crept up to my head and tugged at my hair, draping the ends over my shoulders like a dozen hairy tentacles. The unnerving sensation sent icy fear down my spine as it encircled us, blocking off the light from the sanctuary.
“Zoë!” Sera called out.
I squeezed her hand. “I’m right here.”
“I think it’s sniffing me.” She stepped closer until we were snuggled shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.
My face and neck sprouted goosebumps from the minute breath of the airy darkness around us. It pulled at my clothing with tiny, invisible claws, nicking at the skin beneath with careless abandon. It emitted a series of soft sighs, almost erotic, as if the creature was gaining some crude, intimate pleasure from its nitpicking.
“Any clue?”
“Uh….” I thought for a second. “Not a one. Could be an untamed air elemental.”
“A what?”
I rolled my eyes. “Either you accept that things are about to get weird—”
“Er… weirder.”
I sighed. “Sera.”
“Oh, fine. Do your thing.” She couldn’t keep the involuntary resignation from her voice—Delante stubbornness.
I swallowed a chuckle. “It’s big and strong, but it’s invoked. It doesn’t live here.” I reached out, and it pulled back. I moved forward, encircling us with my magick, and it met my movement.
Its energy touched mine, and the weirdest cacophony of coos and shrieks erupted, like a million separate high-pitched voices singing a sharp, electric harmony.
Great, a sadomasochistic parasite. Or a siphon. Whoever controlled this creature held demented intent and gained something through the vicarious sampling. I didn’t like voyeurs, and I sure as hell liked them less when they used magick against their victims.
“Enough!” My voice should’ve echoed in this hallway, but the living wall of pitch just absorbed it. “I don’t care who you are, but if you don’t knock this shit off right now, if I have to break through your pet of my own volition, I will make you regret it. I know you know what I am, but I promise you’ve only gotten a sneak peek at what I can do. Drop the damn nonsense, or I’m going to make your little invocation look like some cheap online spell kit!”
I was bluffing my not-so-little ass off. No way in hell did I possess enough magick on my own to break this casting, much less launch a counteroffensive against the caster, but of the three of us in this stalemate, did anyone know that but me? Probably not.
A shaft of yellow light pierced the wall, and the entity scurried into the shadows behind us.
I raised one arm to shade my eyes, and with the other motioned for Sera to remain behind me. “Wait,” I whispered. “Let’s see who we’re up against.”
She stilled.
The yellow sliver spread into a wider ray of light, broken only by a man’s shadow. From the cover of my arm, he looked angelic—not in that silly teen girl kind of way, but how I’d always imaged an actual angel of God. A ring of light, brighter than the saving shaft of yellow, covered him from mussed curly hair to the end of his long legs. His mouth was parted, his breath strained, like he’d been running. He dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief.
I couldn’t make out any further details in that light, but his mere presence made me blush. His magick held heat against the exposed parts of my skin, and I fought against the happy sigh sitting on my tongue.
My beast answered my confusion with a familiar wanting whimper, like the man in front of me was a tasty treat instead of the enemy. I shook my head. I didn’t have time for this nonsense.
“Is that…?” Sera whispered.
I nodded. “Hello, Jareth.”
Born in 1975, I’m the product of star-crossed lovers who took separate paths shortly after my arrival. Now a three-time mother, twice married woman, and eclectic person, I reside in the sunny biosphere that is Sierra Vista, Arizona, with my wonderful partner in crime, Peter, and three brilliant geeklings: Michael, Cami and Desmond. Oh, and a mop… er… Shih Tzu named Sir Lancelot the Brave.
Writing came to me naturally, and the dark clouds of childhood and adolescent angst gave birth to a myriad of story threads that reflected my inner struggle to find a place in this world. I haven’t quite discovered it yet, but I’ve fallen in love with the journey and all the stories unfolding in front of me. I’m a lover of many genres and a writer of a small handful, and rather content with that lot.
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4 Stars
Glenn Shepard’s first novel, Surge, was written while he was still a surgical resident at Vanderbilt. In the following years he wrote The Hart Virus, a one-thousand-page epic about the AIDS crisis, as well as three other novels. In 2012, he created “Dr. Scott James,” his Fugitive-like action-hero, and began publishing a series. The first volume of the Dr. Scott James series was The Missile Game, followed shortly afterward by The Zombie Game. The third of the series, The Ebola Game, is due out in December, 2015. Though the books contain many of the same characters, they don’t have to be read in order. Each can be read as a stand-alone.
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) Cara hopes to find the man of her dreams. Instead she gets caught up in a lover’s nightmare.
—Sarah Delaney Booth and her partner Tinkie Armstrong tackle a thieving Cupid.
—A two-timing husband hires a retired cop to retrieve a stolen gift. But nothing is as it seems!
—A murder at a theme park puts Georgina “Georgie” Shaw at risk, when the killer sets Georgie up to take the fall. Will the hunky detective assigned to the case believe her plea of innocence?
