Salem's Revenge Complete Boxed Set

by David Estes

  Now, one says in our heads, so we can all hear. Push!

  She does and I feel myself pushing along with her, deep in my gut, trying to will the child out. The head comes first, wet and bloody and beautiful, then the torso, and finally its tiny legs, sprawling into my waiting arms, where I wrap it in a warm towel. A girl, already crying and trying to open her sleepy eyelids.

  “She’s beautiful,” Chloe murmurs, her usual response, her bright eyes filled with wonder.

  And as usual, I reply, “She’s perfect,” because, of course, all babies are.

  After cutting the umbilical cord, I use a wet towel to clean off her skin, which is a rich, smooth, perfect brown, the precise mixture of her pale Caucasian father and dark African-American mother. I’m about to hand the child to her mother, when one of the Claires stops me, resting a hand on my shoulder.

  Her eyes are filled with stars and awe. “I know her. I know this soul.”

  “Who is she?” I ask.

  “Mother,” the Claire says.

  My own eyes widen as I look upon the bundle of perfection in my arms. “Oh Trish,” I say, lifting the baby closer to my face. Her eyes are fully opened now, as brown as liquid soil, bigger than the full moon rising high over our heads. And I see her. Like a window opened to let in a cool breeze, I See the real her through her eyes, which shimmer in the starlight.

  I see her soul and

  it's beautiful.

  No.

  Beyond beautiful. Perfection brought to life. Goodness and light and the future and the past.

  Trish reaches for my face with a tiny hand, a single finger outstretched.

  Her finger is glowing with a bright white light I haven’t seen in months, since she led Rhett and I back together again. When she touches my cheek, I feel her power run through all of me, from my feet to my heart to the tips of my ears to the very marrow of my bones. Stitching broken parts back together. Cleansing the dirty edges of my soul.

  And when she pulls away, I feel a great darkness follow her touch, leaving me gasping and laughing and…

  Yes.

  Believing.

  ~~~

  Rhett

  This time, there’s someone with Bil as he approaches the settlement. Normally it’s just him—he prefers to travel alone.

  I squint into the fading daylight, trying to make out his companion. It’s not Huckle, who would be about a head taller than Bil. A dying beam of sunlight reflects off his companion, displaying long golden hair and a devil-may-care smile that once took my world and flipped it upside down.

  But no. I can’t. Even as Hex bounds off the porch and charges for Laney, my feet are glued to the ground. As much as I want to run to her, to sweep her into a hug and squeeze her against me, I won’t—not when it will hurt her. Already she’s too close, hiding the pain she surely feels behind a carefree mask.

  And yet she keeps coming. I wave her away, emotion rushing up my throat. Tears pool in my eyes. This is our fate. Always so close but impossibly far away.

  If she won’t stop coming, I’ll run as fast as I can. It doesn’t matter where I go, only that it’s not near her. I jump off the porch and take off, blinking away tears.

  Laney shouts something but I can’t make out her words. It doesn’t matter what she has to say; I can’t hurt her again. And then Hex is there, in front of me, barking his head off and blocking my path. He jumps up and paws at my stomach.

  Laney’s shouts are getting nearer and I try to push past my dog, but his efforts to block me become more frantic, as if he’s determined to trip me up rather than let me escape. “Hex, sit!” I say. “Stay!”

  Of course, he doesn’t listen, just continues to bark and leap in front of me when I try to move. Desperate, I whip my head around to find Laney jogging toward me, so close now—too close. A deadly nearness. I start to wave her away again, but then I realize something:

  She’s still smiling.

  Although she is one of the toughest people I know, and her pain tolerance is impressively high, not even she’s been able to disguise the agony she feels when we’re in close proximity.

  Something resonates deep inside me, like a plucked bowstring, vibrating with truth and realization. All breath leaves me and my knees lock and it’s all I can do to just stand still as Hurricane Laney rushes toward me with the power of a gale force wind.

  She leaps onto me, wrapping her arms around my neck, her legs around my legs, and I just hold her and hold her and hold her. We cry and we laugh and we kiss until the day turns to night and even Hex gives up on getting our attention, heading back inside the Carter cabin where a warm meal is surely being prepared by Rain and my father. But we don’t follow, content to share the closest space possible with each other, our breaths mingling, our words embracing, our lips touching. It doesn’t matter how or why or who—at least not right now; we are together, and we are complete again.

  ~~~

  I’ve lost so much, just like everybody else, but I’ve come to realize that what we have to live for—and die for—is so much greater: Laney Harris, the Master of Witty Comebacks and Love of my Life, Tillman Huckle, the Surprisingly Brave Gamer and Weapons Seller, Hex, the Wonderdog (and so much more!), Grogg, the Master-less Mud Troll, Floss, the Pierced Non-Witch-Hunter, Trish, The Breaker of Curses and Bringer of Hope, Rain Carter, The Prodigal Daughter, Martin Carter, My Dad, and yes, even Bil-freaking-Nez, who hasn’t had a blackout in months, and the Reaper, who’s not such a bad guy after all.

  This life is far from perfect—that’s one thing that hasn’t changed in a world that seems like a whole different planet to what it was a year ago. And my journey was even further from perfect—filled with insanely sharp twists and turns, cavernous potholes and fortress-like roadblocks.

  But that’s what makes life worth it. Not knowing what will come next. Being sure of nothing except the people around you, the people who love you. The unpredictability of our lives isn’t a reason to hide in bed all day beneath the covers; it’s THE reason to live.

  Sometimes, in the dark of night, I indulge myself in wishing I could bring back those I’ve lost along the way. My mother, who I never really met. My last foster family, rest their kindhearted souls. My first love, Beth. Xavier Jackson, the brave hero.

  It’s a child’s wish.

  Yet when I close my eyes I can still see them like it was yesterday. In a way, they’re still here. They’re still with me. Not lost.

  If there’s one thing this journey has taught me it’s that there’s magic—real magic—in this screwed up world we live in. Some of it’s held in the spells and concoctions of the magic-born, while even more of it is contained within the furry four-legged innocence of a dog named Hex.

  But the vast majority of it, the part that’s the hardest to see, the hardest to grasp, the kind of magic you can only believe in through faith alone, resides in the hearts of the earth’s inhabitants. That kind of magic never falters, never fails, never takes a day off.

  The best magic of all is our love for each other, and as long as we never lose that, we’ll survive until the end of time.

  And so I hold Laney’s hand as often as I can, relishing the warmth of her skin. She’s mine, and I’m hers, and nothing the world throws at us can change that.

  Ever.

  ~~~ * ~~~

  Get FOUR FREE EBOOKS when you sign up for the David Estes Awesome Reader Team on his website at http://davidestesbooks.blogspot.com

  Keep reading for a sample of David Estes’ new boxed set, The Slip Trilogy, a SciFi population control thriller, available NOW!

  A personal note from David…

  If you enjoyed this boxed set, please, please, please (don’t make me get down on my knees and beg!) considering leaving a positive review on Amazon.com. Without reviews Amazon.com, I wouldn’t be able to write for a living, which is what I love to do! Thanks for all your incredible support and I look forward to reading your reviews.

  Acknowledgments

  This is the end of m
y first series since the Dwellers/Country Saga. Whew, I have to admit that it’s a huge load off my back. After the success of The Moon Dwellers and Fire Country and their sequels, I was VERY nervous about writing a new series, especially one that’s so different. But I shouldn’t have been nervous, not with the amazing support of people like you who were willing to give the witch apocalypse a shot and follow Rhett, Laney, Hex and all the rest on their bleak, sometimes comedic, and always action-packed journey to find peace, both for the world and for themselves. This series wouldn’t exist without all my awesome readers supporting me and my dream. Thank you for everything, my friends.

  To my beautiful and incredible wife, Adele, thank you for giving me the perfect idea to allow things to make sense at the end. Without you it would’ve been a train wreck! Also, thank you for sacrificing so much of your personal reading time to edit and beta read my books, sorry I keep pumping them out so fast!

  A special thanks to my agent, Andrea Hurst, who has never doubted me, not even one time. And to her team, Katie Reed and Christine Herman, thank you for pushing me to the limits when it comes to not-so-happy endings. Your feedback made me lose sleep in the best possible way.

  For another remarkably dark and eerie cover, thank you to my cover artist, Tony Wilson at Winkipop Design. There is no limit to the types of covers you’re capable of creating!

  Thank you to my beta readers, Kerri Hughes, Terri Thomas, Rachel Shade, Brooke DelVecchio, and Anthony Briggs Jr. I love how you never let me off the hook when I have the opportunity to take the ending from good to great. You are my personal heroes!

  Of course, no acknowledgments is complete without a leaping high five to my Street Team, the Estes’ Angels, who tirelessly work to get my books in the hands of new readers. My career wouldn’t be the same without each and every one of you talented and kind people. You are friends for life!

  ~~~

  Discover other exciting titles by David Estes available through the author’s official website:

  http://davidestesbooks.blogspot.com

  or through select online retailers.

  Young-Adult Books by David Estes

  The Dwellers Saga:

  Book One—The Moon Dwellers

  Book Two—The Star Dwellers

  Book Three—The Sun Dwellers

  Book Four—The Earth Dwellers

  The Country Saga (A Dwellers Saga sister series):

  Book One—Fire Country

  Book Two—Ice Country

  Book Three—Water and Storm Country

  Book Four—The Earth Dwellers

  Salem’s Revenge:

  Book One—Brew

  Book Two—Boil

  Book Three—Burn

  The Slip Trilogy:

  Book One—Slip

  Book Two—Grip

  Book Three—Flip

  I Am Touch

  The Evolution Trilogy:

  Book One—Angel Evolution

  Book Two—Demon Evolution

  Book Three—Archangel Evolution

  Children’s Books by David Estes

  The Adventures of Nikki Powergloves:

  Nikki Powergloves—A Hero Is Born

  Nikki Powergloves and the Power Council

  Nikki Powergloves and the Power Trappers

  Nikki Powergloves and the Great Adventure

  Nikki Powergloves vs. the Power Outlaws

  Nikki Powergloves and the Power Giver

  Connect with David Estes Online

  David Estes Fans and YA Book Lovers Unite

  Facebook

  Blog/website

  About the Author

  David Estes was born in El Paso, Texas but moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania when he was very young. He grew up in Pittsburgh and then went to Penn State for college. Eventually he moved to Sydney, Australia where he met his wife and soul mate, Adele, who he’s now been happily married to for more than two years.

  A reader all his life, David began writing novels for the children's and YA markets in 2010, and has published more than 20 novels. In June of 2012, David became a fulltime writer and is now travelling the world with Adele while he writes books, and she writes and takes photographs.

  David gleans inspiration from all sorts of crazy places, like watching random people do entertaining things, dreams (which he jots copious notes about immediately after waking up), and even from thin air sometimes!

  David’s a writer with OCD, a love of dancing and singing (but only when no one is looking or listening), a mad-skilled ping-pong player, an obsessive Goodreads group member, and prefers writing at the swimming pool to writing at a table. He loves responding to e-mails, Facebook messages, Tweets, blog comments, and Goodreads comments from his readers, all of whom he considers to be his friends.

  A sample of a new boxed set, the Slip Trilogy, by David Estes, available NOW! “Someone must die before another can be born…”

  Book One—SLIP

  PART ONE: THE BOY WITH NO NAME

  Past article from the Saint Louis Times:

  Controversial Population Control Decree Written Into Law

  Since the cataclysmic natural events referred to globally as the Rise and the Fall, American lawmakers have discussed various ways to control the growing population to ensure sufficient resources for survival. A five-year study has determined that the ideal economic and social population for the Reorganized United States of America is 504 million. As our great country is on the verge of reaching our ideal population, a population control system will be instituted on the 5th of December of this year. Prior to pregnancy, all couples planning a family must register with the Department of Population Control of the Reorganized United States of America, and pay a nonrefundable processing fee. After processing, each couple will receive a ‘pregnancy offset,’ which the media is casually referring to as a Death Match, someone who is likely to die in the near future. Only when their Death Match has died will the couple be authorized for pregnancy and child-bearing, thus maintaining the population status quo. This process has been coined Birth Neutrality, and is being referred to as ‘the cornerstone of our survival,’ by recently elected President Ford. In the event of an unsuccessful pregnancy, the Death Match will be voided and provided to another couple in need of a match. At that time, the couple may reapply and try again. Punishment for non-compliance will fall under the jurisdiction of the newly established Department of Population Control, which has been nicknamed Pop Con.

  For more information on the topics discussed in this article, speak “Pop Con and you” into your holo-screen.

  Have a comment on this article? Speak them into your holo-screen now.

  Comments:

  JimBob006: I think this is a positive step forward. My grocery store is always packed and the shelves are empty. More people will mean even less food to go around. Something’s got to give.

  CyborgLuvr12: This is bulls!$*!

  LingLi8: Now I know how my great-grandparents felt.

  GovHater: JimBob006 probably works for Pop Con.

  ~~~

  Michael Kelly’s stomach is in knots.

  It’s no different than he’s felt since his promotion to Head of Population Control, except that the knots seem to tighten with each word that his second in command, Corrigan Mars, speaks. “Finally,” Corr says slowly, “we’ve got a Slip.”

  Damn, he thinks, but he can’t say that. “What do we know?” he asks instead. As usual, he’s playing his role and playing it well.

  “Not much,” Corr says. “Except she’s young, maybe three or four years old, female.”

  “The doctor?” Michael says.

  “Dead. He was particularly good at keeping secrets, even under our most sophisticated interrogation procedures. His mind was stronger than his body.”

  Michael knows exactly what that means, and it makes him cringe inwardly. Torture. But he doesn’t show his revulsion on his face, his false expression stalwart and emotionless. “Just one child slipped through the cracks though, right
?” Michael’s chest tightens when he realizes his mistake. His loose tongue. He called the Slip a ‘child.’ A child born illegally is no child, is nothing more than an enemy of the state, something he should know better than anyone.

  Corr blinks once, but if he notices the error he doesn’t show it. Instead he only nods in confirmation. “There were others, but none had reached the age of mobility. The doctor started doing illegal births a few years back. He began slowly, as most of them do, but then ramped up operations as he gained confidence. The Slip was his first.”

  “How’d we catch the others?”

  “After the first, the doc started keeping records. He used code names and misdirection, but we managed to crack the code during his interrogation. From there it was relatively easy. The Hunters tracked every last UnBee down.”

  UnBees, Michael thinks, hating the slang term more than ever. Unauthorized Beings. “How many?” he asks, wishing he didn’t have to. Wishing he could walk out and never return.

  “Dozens.” His old friend says it with a smile, like killing more children than can be counted on two hands is something to be proud of. When did the gap in their beliefs widen into an eternal chasm?

  “Good,” Michael says, bitterness coating his tongue. “Catch the Slip. Use every resource we have available. Our careers may depend on it.”