Shadows in the Mist

by Jeri Westerson

  And Seraphina! I always thought of her as fey and genteel, someone who wouldn’t chip her nail polish. But she was suddenly some kind of Wiccan warrior. Her boho garb was getting spattered, her face determined. I noticed a glow around her, a spell. Maybe it was for protection, maybe for strength. Whatever it was, her actions were systematic and powerful. First, she’d cut the legs out from under them, and when they were down, she chopped off their heads. Seemed like it saved energy, too.

  “I’ll have to try that,” I muttered, like I was talking about a new recipe or a great Pilates move.

  Doug seemed to be making some headway with the flame thrower. More bodies were lying charred on the ground. And thank goodness none had run into the forest.

  When Ed and George arrived in the Interceptor, I started to hear gunfire blasting off heads as well.

  Hands grabbed me and pulled me back. I was about to swing back over my head to cut the interloper in two when I heard the voice in my ear say, “It’s me.”

  I spun. “Erasmus!”

  He was looking me up and down with a shining light glittering in his eyes. His smile was feral. It looked like all he wanted to do was devour me…in a non-zombie way.

  “You are magnificent!” he rasped.

  “I am magnificently peeved. Where the hell have you been?”

  “It wasn’t easy to locate Shabiri. She kept flitting in and out of the Netherworld, trying to hide from me in a place I could not go.”

  “Did you find her?”

  In answer, he gestured behind me.

  Shabiri was lugging a huge pirate chest-looking thing, kicking Vikings out of her way with her high-heeled boots. She finally set the chest down in the middle of the battle, even as zombies and Ordo surged around her.

  “Here you are, you disgusting undead Danes!” She zapped the latch with a jet of lightning from her finger, and the lid sprang open, revealing a gleaming cache of gold. Plates, goblets, figurines, crowns, jewelry, coins…you name it, it was there.

  The change was immediate. The Draugr stopped mid-battle, dropping their swords and battered axes. They stopped pushing against the Ordo and their bats. The two zombies engaged with the werewolves suddenly didn’t seem to care that jaws were gnawing on their undead limbs. They dragged the wolves behind them until WereJeff and WereNick let them go. As one, the Draugr turned toward the gold, its light reflecting in their gooey eye sockets. Suddenly, like TV zombies, they shambled toward it, arms outstretched. Instead of murmuring Brains!, they were saying something like, “Skat!”

  The coven and the Ordo both stepped out of their way and let them go. Even more of them were coming out of the woods. Jeesh, how many were there anyway?

  They gathered in a tight clump around the chest, swaying, moaning out that word skat, over and over again.

  Doc came up next to me. He had stayed in the shop, probably to protect Jolene, who was right beside him. “They’re saying ‘treasure,’” she whispered.

  One straggler tried to veer toward WereJeff and grab his necklace. Jeff gave his jaws a snap, and the cautious Viking decided to return his attention to the gold his countrymen were worshipping.

  When it seemed they were all there—more than fifty creatures or so—they slowly raised their weapons and arms skyward. A glow pulsed from the treasure chest until a beam of light shot upward like a searchlight. Slowly, the Draugr began to rise in that beam, moving faster and faster up into the dark sky. Even their leftover limbs levitated upward—their discarded weapons, and charred and headless remains too. The last to rise was the chest, which shot upward and disappeared.

  The mist from the woods dissipated, leaving a clear and cold night.

  We stood around, looking up into the sky, not quite knowing what to do. The Booke was nudging my leg. I grabbed it, held it to my chest. All of a sudden, I felt ravenous, as if I hadn’t eaten for days. I could really go for a bloody burger about now, I thought, even as zombie gore dried on my clothes.

  Shabiri rested a fist on her hip. “Well! That was a bother.”

  I squared on her, wanting to swat at her with the Booke. “Why did you steal that in the first place? You knew damn well what it was.”

  “Dear Dougie wanted riches. They were the most convenient riches I could find.”

  “But you knew it would bring killer zombies!”

  “There was a chance it wouldn’t have.”

  “Are you kidding me? People died!”

  She got in close to me, her eyes going green. “What do I care if mortals die?”

  I hauled back and hit her full in the face with the Booke. Shabiri staggered back. Erasmus made a squeaking sound that might have been a muffled laugh. Ed took a step in my direction then stopped.

  Shabiri glared. Her nose was literally out of joint, black blood dribbling down her face. She pushed her nose back into place with an unpleasant snap and wiped the blood with the back of her hand, only causing it to smear. “You little bitch.” She raised her hand to throw a lightning bolt or some other curse my way, when Erasmus stepped in front of me.

  “I wouldn’t,” he warned.

  She trembled with fury and disappeared with a flourish of sparks.

  He turned to me with a mild expression. “You’ve made her very angry.”

  “I don’t care. She’s an idiot. Is anyone else hungry? I’m starving.”

  Jeff and Nick both shifted at the same time. It seemed that nudity wasn’t a thing that bothered them anymore. Seraphina put her hand over Jolene’s eyes. I didn’t know if the sound Jolene made was of surprise or annoyance.

  “Whoa, Riley,” said Doug, gesturing toward Nick. “Dude, put some clothes on. There’s no need to telegraph how much you enjoyed your werewolfing.”

  Nick gave him a sour look…until he looked down at himself. His face reddened, and he quickly covered his groin with his hands. Jeff seemed to be sporting the same kind of…excitement.

  “Uh, Jeff?” I said, trying not to look below his chin. “You might want to put some clothes on. Maybe fighting as a wolf is a…turn on?”

  He looked down and clamped his hand over himself, too. Instead of blushing and quickly sprinting toward the shop as Nick had done, Jeff just smirked. “I got to get my jollies somehow.”

  I turned away. “Just…get your clothes.”

  He smiled and casually walked toward the shop, chucking under Seraphina’s chin as he went. She was looking at him unabashedly, especially the back view. And I couldn’t say I blamed her.

  Doug sauntered over to me, taking in Wiccans, demon, Booke, and retreating werewolves. “That’s a pretty impressive bunch you’ve got there, Kylie.”

  “Yeah. Well, uh, thanks, Doug, for coming to the rescue with your, uh, bunch.”

  He shucked his Army surplus flamethrower from his shoulders, and Bob hurried over to take it from him. “Just helping out. Like I said I would. Do you hear that, big bro?”

  Ed came to my side, wearing the particular scowl he reserved for his brother. “I heard. I wanna thank you, too.”

  Doug’s eyes widened, and he threw his hands up. “Miracles can happen, ladies and gentlemen!”

  “If you’re gonna be an ass about it…”

  “Relax, Edward. That’s what warriors do after a battle. They laugh, they joke, and they drink. So Kylie, you got any liquor in that tea parlor of yours?”

  “Don’t invite him in,” said Ed.

  “Yes, I do,” I nodded. “I think we all deserve a drink. And a bite of something. Is anyone else as hungry as I am?”

  I led the way back into the shop, mourning my fancy door. And the fact that I would have to spend more money at Barry Johnson’s hardware store to get a new one. But it couldn’t be helped. The axe had made a hash of it.

  Nick was dressed and suitably chastened. Though I noticed George giving him the eye. The deputy must have observed how Nick had buffed out after becoming a werewolf. I guess it wasn’t all bad.

  Nick helped me get out some liquor. I had one small bottle of bourbo
n, some vodka, a little brandy, and coffee liqueur. I also managed to rustle up some beer from the fridge—and stole a chicken leg while I was at it. After I’d wolfed it down, I was still hungry.

  Jeff had his trousers on but nothing else. He padded around with bare feet, his hairless chest garnering stares from Charise, Seraphina, and Jolene.

  I noticed I was lugging the Booke around and swung it to lay it down somewhere when I ran into Jeff. His necklace hit the Booke with a spark. Something slid open.

  “Wait!” I cried over the noise of voices and bourbon splashing in plastic cups.

  Jeff froze and pulled the necklace off over his head. The coven surrounded him.

  “It touched the Booke and opened,” I told them. There was writing on the inside of the locket.

  “Mr. Dark,” said Doc. “Can you tell us what it says. My Babylonian isn’t quite up to snuff.”

  “What’s all this?” asked Doug, peering over Jolene’s shoulder. “What’s this gold necklace do?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “I’ve seen that before,” said Charise. I supposed she would know every piece of jewelry in Moody Bog. “That’s the necklace that old biddy Ruth Russell wears. You stole it off her, wolf man?”

  “No,” said Erasmus, edging through the crowd. “I did.”

  That shut her up. She scooted away from him to Doug’s other side.

  Erasmus took the necklace and studied it. I still couldn’t touch it. I even stepped back, feeling slightly foolish.

  “What does it say?” I asked. Though my hunger pangs threatened to overshadow my interest in the locket.

  “It’s a prophecy, near as I can tell,” he said. “Within the hurasu gates, the enemies of man shall fast remain.”

  I rubbed my forehead. I was definitely getting a headache. “What does that mean?”

  Erasmus shrugged and placed the locket in Doc’s open palm. “Within the hurasu gates,” Doc muttered. “Hurasu is the Babylonian word for gold. Golden gates. Well…I suppose there’s nothing much to do besides think on it. Do we know if this has any more magical significance?”

  Nick scooted next to Doc to peer at the necklace. “We couldn’t find any indication that it was magical. Did you try the scryer on it?”

  “Ay-yuh. Didn’t light up at all.”

  I rubbed my stomach and searched around the room for something to nibble on.

  “Then maybe we can give it back to Mrs. Russell,” said Jolene.

  “Maybe.” He turned it over again, letting Jolene snap a picture of the inscription with her tablet and then carefully slid the opening back until it clicked closed. As an experiment, he touched it to the Booke again. It snapped opened.

  “By Godfrey,” he muttered. He pushed the little slider back in again and dangled it toward me. “I think you should take it back to Ruth. As a peace offering.”

  “Are you kidding? I already burned that bridge.”

  “Which is why it’s imperative that you repair the relationship. You let the cat out of the bag, so now you have to gain back some trust. And in truth, she might know what it means and be willing to tell us. Or you can trick it out of her.”

  “But I literally told her I thought she was a…a witch.”

  Seraphina, all smiles and fairy dust again, even with zombie bits attached to her bloody clothes, slid her arm across my shoulders. “And you can tell her you’re one too.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “Let’s see. You help perform rituals, you use magic and magical objects, and you work for the greater good.” I ignored Doug’s spiteful snort. “I think that makes you a witch, dear.”

  “But I’m not. I’m a…a Chosen Host. Whatever that is.”

  “It makes you a mage,” said Doug, in all seriousness. “And that ain’t nuthin’ to sneeze at.”

  I took in Doug and his merry band. “Are you guys teaming up with us now?”

  He seemed to snap out of the nice camaraderie spell we had all fallen under. He thumped his half-drunk plastic cup of booze down on a table. “Hell no! We just fulfilled a promise. It’s time we go, kids. Leave these sorry Wiccans on their own. Later, Edweird.” He pushed past Ed and led the way out the door. Bob and Dean downed their cups and followed him out. Charise set her cup down daintily…then deliberately tipped it over, soiling the nice tablecloth and my wood floor. She smirked as she sauntered after Doug.

  The bell tinkled as they closed what was left of the door behind them.

  I sighed. “Well, that truce was short-lived.”

  But Doc was smiling. “I think that was very promising. Now here, Kylie. You take the necklace.”

  “I…I can’t.”

  He rummaged in his trouser pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He dropped the locket and chain in and wrapped it all into a nice package. He thrust that toward me and oddly, I was able to take it now, though I longed to get rid of it. I hated the idea of going to Ruth with hat in hand with some made-up story, but Doc knew best.

  “Okay,” I said, exhausted and looking around. Not too much damage on the inside of the shop this time. That was a relief. That feeling quickly fled, replaced by something else.

  I was starving.

  Author’s Afterword

  You’ve made it through the third book! Thanks so much for reading. I’m having a lot of fun telling Kylie’s story. Though I originally envisioned a six-book series, it became obvious to me that there would only be four. So, the final book in the series, THE DARKEST GATEWAY, is next. I’m already thinking of the possibility of more adventures in this world, so stay tuned. It may not be over after all.

  This is a good time to thank all who are involved in making this book. First and foremost is my partner, my helpmate, my long-suffering husband Craig, who reads and critiques everything I write. Then my awesome editor and super fangirl Lydia Youngman, who burnishes all the sentences and makes them extra shiny. It only gets better when she waves her magic red pencil at it. Thanks also to my copy editor, Kristen Greenberg, for giving it a thorough going over. And thanks also to my agent Lisa Rodgers at JABberwocky, who holds my hand and gets my books out there in front of the right people. Also to all the rest of the folks at JABberwocky—Patrick Disselhorst particularly—who lovingly handle all the other technical aspects in order to allow the book to fly into the world. And finally, to all the readers out there who found the series and give it the thumbs up. A huge thank you to you all.

  If you liked this book, please review it! You can also find out more about me, the series, and sign up for my quarterly newsletter by going to BOOKEoftheHIDDEN.com.

  Read on for an excerpt of The Darkest Gateway, the final novel in the Booke of the Hidden series

  We plunged into the woods, which made the cloudy day seem just a dream. In between the trees, the light was cut in half, and I blinked, trying to adjust my eyes. I kept the crossbow ready, though it hadn’t yet armed itself.

  “Tell me about the whole Samhain thing again, and the convergence of power at the Winter Solstice,” I said quietly, trying to tip-toe over the crunchier parts of the forest.

  He gazed at me mildly, making no sound as he walked. “I thought it was self-explanatory.”

  “Well hit me again.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I mean, tell me again. I don’t know that I was listening all that closely the last time.”

  He sighed. “How very gratifying that the important information I impart to you is so much noise.”

  “Erasmus…”

  “Very well. The time of the solstices has great power, but that power fades away. Fall is the in-between time. The Winter solstice is ahead but not close enough. That makes it dangerous for mages and beings of power, as their power wanes and the evil power rises. The exception is Samhain, which seems to concentrate the magic for the one day.”

  “Yeah, that last part. Concentrating the magic.”

  “I don’t make this stuff up, you know.”

  “I know. But…it’s hard to wrap
my mind around.”

  “It’s simple. The power fluctuates. It grows as the solstice gets closer, but Samhain—or what you quaintly refer to as ‘Halloween’—grabs hold of this wayward power for just one night. It focuses the magic.”

  “Like a magnifying glass.”

  “Precisely. It is at its most powerful at midnight.”

  “But not for powerful magical people. The bad magic rises, the good magic fades. Is that it?”

  “Essentially.”

  “What would that do to the Booke?”

  He shrugged. “I dread to think what would be released on Samhain.”

  “You mean it could dump its whole, uh, inventory?”

  “It’s possible. I have never been awakened near Samhain before. The creatures grow stronger and mages grow weaker, Kylie. A very dangerous time.”

  “I’m not a mage.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  The thought overwhelmed me and my stomach—even as hungry as I was. “We’ve got less than a week, then, to stop the Booke for good.”

  “Kylie, I have told you before that this is impossible.”

  “No, it isn’t. You said there is only one being who can stop the Booke.”

  Erasmus halted, and I looked back to see if he’d caught sight or scent of the new creature. But instead, he looked pale and…frightened.

  “Kylie, I told you we must never speak of that.”

  “He’s the only one who has enough power. The only one who even the Powers That Be are afraid of. Isn’t that what you said?”

  “I also said that I am terrified of Him myself.”

  I lowered the crossbow. “Look, I know you said you’re scared, but…I think if we go together—”

  “Are you insane? I will not bring you into the presence of…of Him.”

  “Satan. It’s a name I’ve said countless times.”

  “But you have no idea what you are saying.”

  “I do. I—” The snap of a twig out in the forest caught my attention, and a sudden wave of hunger roiled in my belly. I cocked my head and listened. There was definitely something walking out there. When I lifted the crossbow, it was armed with yet a different quarrel I had not used before.