MOONRISE
A New Adult Urban Fantasy
Supernatural Siblings Series
Book 1
by
Drew VanDyke
and
David VanDyke
MoonRise
Published by Reaper Press
Copyright 2013 Drew VanDyke and David VanDyke
All Rights Reserved.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase a copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not given to you by the author for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form, or by any means whatsoever (electronic, mechanical or otherwise) without prior written permission and consent from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Books by David and Drew
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Books by Drew VanDyke and David VanDyke
Supernatural Siblings Series:
MoonRise - Book 1
MoonFall - Book 2
BloodMoon - Book 3
***
Other Books by David VanDyke
Plague Wars Series
The Eden Plague
Reaper’s Run
Skull’s Shadows
Eden’s Exodus
Apocalypse Austin
Nearest Night
The Demon Plagues
The Reaper Plague
The Orion Plague
Cyborg Strike
Comes The Destroyer
Forge and Steel
First Conquest
Desolator
Tactics of Conquest
Conquest of Earth
Conquest and Empire
For more information visit https://www.davidvandykeauthor.com/
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Prologue
Dear Diary:
Life is really a pain in the butt right now.
Now, before you start going off on me, let me tell you that this pain is not metaphorical. It’s not merely because I’ve been relegated to staying with my identical twin sister back in our hometown of Knightsbridge, California, for the first time in years, or having to figure out how I feel about my old boyfriend Will.
No, this pain is due to some overenthusiastic animal control officer with a dart gun, plus poor adherence to Steam Room Sterilization and Sanitization Techniques by an unnamed resort and spa somewhere near the border of Idaho and Washington State.
So, armed with a secret I can’t tell my other half and a chunk taken out of my derriere that hurts like a son of a bitch, I’m playing invalid to my own twin version of holiday misery.
Let’s just hope we make it to Christmas alive.
Chapter 1
“Ashlee Scott! Get that ruler away from your rear end!” My usually sweetness-and-light twin sister Amber grabbed it out of my hand before I could take care of the itch I’d been dealing with all day.
“Amber, you give me back that ruler or so help me…”
“What? Like you’re gonna take me? In your condition?” Amber smiled and turned to her partner Elle, who was planted on the plush and comfy davenport, remote control in hand, trying to catch up on NFL scores. Elle was in her late thirties, which kinda made Amber a trophy chick, I guess. Booby prize, maybe?
“Honey?” My twin flashed Elle that dazzling Scott smile.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Elle wryly dribbled from the side of her mouth without taking her eyes from the split screen ESPN channel. “I am not falling for that one again.”
Amber furrowed her brow, frustrated for the moment.
“Amb, don’t frown,” I said, mock-sweet. “You’ll need to get Botox before you’re thirty.”
My sister turned to me with a flip of the bob she had going this week and sighed. “And you need to keep all sharp objects away from your rear. At least until that butt wound…”
“Bullet wound!” I interrupted.
“Fine. Bullet wound. Only you would manage to get shot in the ass by a hunter’s ricochet, hiking around in God-Knows-Where, Idaho.”
That was my story, anyway.
My twin tossed her head again and rolled her eyes. “Until that heals…” She turned to JR, her five-year-old son, my nephew, and tickled him.
Seriously, who names their kid after a nighttime soap opera character from the eighties? Okay, it was short for John Robert, but still. At least it wasn’t “Junior.”
“We’re locking up the cutlery until your Aunt Ashlee is all healed up,” Amber said. JR giggled as my sister tickled him. Then Elle decided to join in on the fun and took playful swats at him with the rolled-up sports section while he shrieked in fun.
I, on the other hand, seized the moment’s distraction to drag myself painfully upstairs to my room – well, the guest bedroom I occupied – while the girls got domestic. Yuck. Sometimes being around the Gordon-Scotts was so sugary I thought I’d develop a whole mouthful of cavities.
I tried to sit on the bed, but having to favor one cheek didn’t make things easy, so I rolled over and lay on my stomach. Besides, it still itched like crazy…and then came a knock at the door.
“Hey, Sis.” Amber poked her head in. “You know, the sooner you heal up, the sooner you can be back doing what you love to do.”
I cocked my head, threw back my own Jennifer Aniston locks, the ones that somehow managed to put Amber’s to shame despite sharing a gene set, and said, faux-sweetly, “Don’t worry. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”
Amber’s eyes narrowed. I knew she’d get the dig. She wasn’t happy with her latest stylist and it took time for her hair to grow out. We both used to have the same length tresses, but this year she’d opted for what was supposed to be a hot shoulder-length bob, and it just wasn’t quite working the way she wanted it to.
Trying to recover, she turned and tossed over her shoulder, “Yes, well. Remember what I always say.” She looked back just as I was pushing the door closed with my foot, which in turn pressed on her retreating bebe-branded ass.
“I know, I know. Guests are like fish and family.” I smiled back at her.
We finished in unison, “They both stink after three days.”
“Remember what else they say?” I yelled as she retreated down the hall.
“What’s that?” my sister yelled back.
“You can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your family.”
“That makes no freaking sense. Kleenex!”
&
nbsp; Sigh. By the time I get out of here, I’ll probably be ripe as rotten fruit and smell just as bad. So, tell me, God, what the hell did I do to deserve this?
No answer.
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