by Moira Rogers
Enjoy the following excerpt for Heroes Without, Monsters Within:
“Steve,” I yelled. “Protect the civilians.” I stayed in the air, not daring to let my feet touch the ground. Something was wrong with this attack. This was beyond what Lamarr could do. I just had to survive long enough to figure out what was going on.
“Yes, civilians.” Lamarr chortled. “Can’t let the little people get hurt now, can we?” He looked to one side and flicked his fingers. One of the large steel towers holding up part of the mammoth canopy overhead shifted, the bricks around the bottom of the support bursting like popped balloons.
“Son of a bitch.” I fired off double bolts from my hand as I charged the punk, alternating my shots. One electric bolt shattered the ground just in front of Lamarr, forcing him to stand up and retreat a step.
Steve leapt to his left, landing at the base of the support tower. He wrapped his mammoth arms around it and let out a rumbling groan as he embraced the tilting steel. The silver veins on his arms stretched and twisted, flowing over his skin with the neon lights bouncing off them.
A shout went out, a series of yelps. No, howls. I looked to my left to see a pack of mangy sandy-colored coyotes charging towards Lamarr, their yellowed teeth bared. They leapt up as I laid down another series of blasts, trying to cut off any retreat for the super without shooting the animals. Just one hit would affect him like a taser, short-circuiting his body and dropping the little bastard like a stone.
Of course, I had to hit him first. I swayed sideways, buffeted by strong gusts of wind that couldn’t be natural. It felt like being drunk and trying to shoot the target with the broken popgun at the carnival.
Steve groaned again as he pushed the leaning support down, jamming it past the original cement base. It wobbled for a second before steadying itself. It wasn’t a great solution, but it bought enough time for the rest of the civilians to get out of the way.
Lamarr crouched and pressed his right hand to the ground. A jerk of a finger yanked a stone wall out of the tiles to stop the coyote pack in mid-jump, the poor animals slamming into the barrier at full run. They fell in a dazed heap. One got to his feet and shook his head from side to side, mimicking my inner thoughts. A second later the coyote flew to the right and smashed into a display booth. Glass dragons and tigers crashed and shattered, the tinkling noise of broken glass adding to the mayhem.
Lamarr stood up and looked at me, a sneer on his lips.
“My ride’s here and my job’s done. Later.”
A roaring filled my ears. I spun around to see a small twister, a whirlwind racing down the center of Fremont Street towards me. It snatched up the vending carts, the loose billboards advertising CHEAP BLACKJACK, and garbage cans, whirling them around at a furious rate. Bits and pieces of debris crashed into the lit signs, poking out glass letters and sending sparks everywhere. The smell of burnt plastic grew as it continued its rampage.
“Steve.” I swooped down and grabbed the man’s right hand, pulling him up and away from the base of the pillar. The tower shuddered once but didn’t move. If we could get enough altitude and get clear of the buildings, we could avoid ramming the casinos. Steve had steel skin, but I knew I couldn’t take that sort of impact.
The raging winds slapped against me, making it hard to move upwards. I fought to stay in the center of the street, giving it all I had to avoid falling.
“What is that?” Steve yelled over the rising din.
“I don’t know.” I spotted the coyotes running away in all directions. Some limped and others were bleeding, but no bodies were left behind. I couldn’t imagine how guilty Peter would feel if some of them died.
Lamarr just stood there with an arrogant smirk on his face.
“He’s got something to do with this,” Steve said. His hand tightened around mine, almost painfully so. “Toss me at the little bastard.”
I nodded. We’d discussed this move before but hadn’t even practiced it, leaving it to later. Except that later was now, and there was no room for error. I fought to move forward and get closer to Lamarr. Steve swung at the end of my grip, readying himself to drop like a meteor on the super.
Lamarr glanced up at the approaching whirlwind with a look of reverence on his face. I lifted my other hand, preparing to take a shot at the grinning fool as I readied myself to release Steve.
Something caught me around the waist, a light soft touch that tightened to the point of pain, stopping me in midair. I gasped as I jerked to a stop, calling on my last reserves of strength to stay airborne. Steve hung below me, still clutching my hand.
“Son of a…” Steve exhaled as the unknown force turned us both to face the oncoming storm.
A figure materialized at the center of the spiraling debris, staring at us. She couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, if that. Tall, blonde and obviously able to manipulate air. Her face spiraled through a series of emotions—fear, panic and for an instant I saw utter confusion make a showing.
I had no idea who she was.
Except that she was a super and not on our side.
My stomach did a flip-flop, threatening to return the creampuff et al in force.
The invisible rope around my waist shifted upward, pushing on my chest. It tightened and started to spin us, quick and fast. I remembered going through something like this before, skating on the local rink and being at the end of a long, long line of skaters, going faster and faster until the momentum snapped me off and away into the boards with bone-crushing force.
I thought about putting down some shots, but there was no way to guarantee I’d hit the woman instead of fleeing tourists. I couldn’t take the risk. Instead, I gritted my teeth and hung onto Steve, my hand lost in his mammoth grip.
The controlled spin stopped with a loud pop, sending us twisting away towards the ground.
The world whirled again with the same sensation as on the skating rink, but I wasn’t going to hit any wooden boards and skid to a stop on a sore and cold ass. A pair of strong arms wrapped across my back, pulling me into a tight hug.
“Hang on,” Steve shouted in my ear as he curled himself around me. He smelt of cigar smoke, whiskey and a bit of sweetness I recognized as cinnamon candy, just before everything went black.
When life is a struggle, love is the ultimate luxury.
Reawakening Eden
© 2011 Vivi Andrews
Librarian Eden Fairfax knows exactly where to find books about survival. None of them mentioned how to manage in the aftermath of a worldwide epidemic—with two young orphans in tow.
On a journey south to warmer climes, she finds sanctuary for all three of them among a community of survivors in Seattle. Until she realizes the children are the centerpiece of their bizarre new religion. There’s no choice but to run as far and as fast as her stolen car will go.
Former Army Ranger Connor Reed had planned to live out the end of the world in peace. Yet he can’t stand by and do nothing while a lone woman defends two children from an armed thug. Even if doing something means taking the trio in.
Eden’s not sure if the armed hermit is her salvation or an even more dangerous threat. A blizzard forces her to trust him with their lives, and in Connor’s arms she remembers what it’s like to live.
Just beyond the edge of the storm, though, the cult leader awaits his chance to get his hands on the children—and make Eden his next sexual sacrifice.
Warning: This book contains a strong, silent action-hero, a tough, tenacious heroine, a pair of steal-your-heart kids, and a pony-sized dog named Precious.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Reawakening Eden:
Rambo turned his attention to her, catching her staring. She didn’t look away and neither did he—not so much in a battle of wills as a waiting game, a strategic feint to see who would reveal their true intentions first.
His gun was held at the ready, but she wasn’t exactly pointing a lollipop at him, so she couldn’t really blame him. She didn’t precisely aim the rifl
e at Rambo’s head, but she didn’t put it down either.
No one moved until the sound of Ben’s engine had faded to a distant whine, and then it was Hannah Rose who broke the silence.
“Mama?”
Eden shushed her. Rambo’s eyes flicked down to the kids huddled half beneath her, and her hands tightened on the rifle. Then he dismissed them—faster than she’d ever seen anyone look away from the miracle children before—and met her eyes again. “You okay?”
That remained to be seen. Eden wet her lips. “How long have you been following us?”
His expression, so hard to read beneath the camo paint, didn’t change, but she had the impression she’d managed to surprise him. “What makes you think—?”
“I’ve seen your dog.” Only the one time, but he didn’t need to know that.
As if on cue, the wolfhound reappeared in the narrow clearing where she and the kids had taken cover. Its jaws hung loosely in a canine grin as it loped over to Rambo’s side. Its butt thumped down and it listed heavily against his thigh. They fit together, the oversized dog and its oversized master. He reached down to absently scratch the enormous animal’s head, and something in Eden’s chest unknotted. He couldn’t be evil if he was good to animals, right? And he hadn’t shot them yet. Maybe he wasn’t so terrifying, though he had been following them…
“Been keeping an eye on you since you started running circles on my land.”
His concept of possession startled her a bit. It had been a while since my land meant anything to most people. Then she caught up to the circles part, and her heart thudded against her ribs. Just how lost were they?
“Who are you? What do you want from us?”
His face twisted with what might have been exasperation without the camo paint to make it look foreign and terrifying. “Look, lady, I don’t want anything from you. You just looked like you could use a hand.”
God, how amazing would it be if she could believe him?
She reminded herself he’d come out, made a target of himself and stepped in to help them. He hadn’t had to do that. He could have just walked on by. Or if he’d wanted to hurt them, he could easily have killed them all without stepping a single foot out of cover.
His eyes flicked down to her white-knuckled grip on the rifle. “You ever fired that thing?”
“Yes,” she replied too fast, defensively.
His mouth moved in what could have been a half-smile, but with the face paint she couldn’t really tell. “Ever hit anything?”
“Yes.” A moose. Her dad had loved to hunt and taken her when she was a teen. She’d shot the poor thing dead. Then puked all over the place for the next hour.
“Uh-huh.” Rambo pointed his machine gun toward the sky, propping it back against his shoulder.
Eden’s barrel didn’t waver, though she did let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She wasn’t going to shoot him and they both knew it, but she still felt stronger, more prepared, with the muzzle aimed in his general direction. He didn’t seem to mind.
But she didn’t know how she would be able to tell if he did. The man made robots look emotive.
“Where’re you headed?”
“We’re just passing through,” Eden said, trying to keep her own voice as even and emotionless as his.
Rambo jerked his chin toward the dirt track they’d been walking down all morning. “Nothing down this road to pass to.”
Which meant she’d gotten them just as lost as she’d feared. “We’re going south.”
She couldn’t read his expression past the camo paint, but his voice was dry. “You need a new compass. You’re going west.”
West. Back toward Spokane. Back toward Seattle. Shit. She’d tried to stay on small roads because they were easier for the kids to manage, but the country lanes didn’t always run straight, and she hadn’t been very good about watching the angle of the sun and all that shit to make sure they were staying headed in the right direction.
Suddenly she felt weary to her soul. It was too much for one person to do everything, to be wholly responsible for three lives when the world was spinning upside down. How had she thought she could do this?
Eden swallowed back the self-flagellation and defeat. She needed to focus on moving forward. Getting the kids to safety. Building a life for them somewhere that didn’t involve guns or cults or fear.
Hannah Rose made a small sound of complaint, and Eden shifted so she wasn’t smushing the little girl quite so much. Lucas sat up at her side as Eden crouched in front of them, still defensive.
She jutted her chin up the road back the way they’d come. “So that’s east, huh?”
“East-north-east.”
So south was right in front of her, through the dense forest where this man had appeared. He didn’t look like he was in the mood to play tour guide, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. He was too imposing, too obviously deadly for comfort. This didn’t look like the kind of man who had picked up a gun and some hunting gear out of desperation and self-defense the way she had. He was too calm. He’d probably been living the curmudgeonly mountain-man existence for the last two decades, reading the Unabomber’s unauthorized biography and taking shots at anyone who trespassed on his land. No doubt he was delighted that only one person was living today for every three thousand who’d been alive a year ago.
But he was plainly capable. He knew the area. He’d tracked them easily, so it wasn’t like she’d be able to escape him without a car anyway.
“Could you give us directions to Boise?”
He snorted. “On foot? Honey, you’ve lost your mind if you think you can walk to Boise this time of year.”
“What about someplace we can get a car? Is there a town near here?” She’d pretty much exhausted her knowledge of Idaho towns with Coeur d’Alene and Boise.
The sense of hopeless defeat rushed back in. How was she supposed to get the kids south for the winter if she couldn’t even figure out which way south was?
A tiny hand plucked at Eden’s jeans, Hannah Rose trying to get her attention. She shifted her leg away. Not now, babygirl. Mama’s holding a gun on the nice man.
“Look, I’m sorry, lady…”
“Mama?” The little plucking fingers were back. Hannah Rose poked her head around Eden’s shoulder.
“Not now, Hannah Rose.” Don’t call attention to yourself, babygirl.
But it was already too late. The mountain man was staring at Hannah Rose’s rosy cheeks, his fierce frown evident even through the camouflage paint. “What does she want?” His voice was gruff, choked.
And a note in it set off warning bells in Eden—a note that made him simultaneously a dozen times more likely to help them and a thousand times more dangerous. Not a loner mountain man after all. This man was a daddy once.
Hammer Down
Moira Rogers
When hell reigns on earth, love is a luxury they can't afford.
Children of the Undying, Book 2
While the tattered remains of humanity huddle underground, hiding in their virtual world, Devi prefers living topside, making dangerous hauls through the demon-infested wasteland earth has become. The wealth that comes from smuggling supplies to those shunned as summoner-born or demon-touched doesn’t hurt, either.
The man she meets to arrange one of those under-the-table hauls is complicated…and handsome as hell. Literally. A glimpse of the predator beneath his silver gaze and she’s tempted to break her cardinal rule: never mix business with pleasure.
Zel’s first look at the wild-haired hauler threatens to distract him from his mission—and reminds him just how long it’s been since he got laid. As the leader of an outcast settlement, he can’t afford to trust too easily. Devi’s got a reputation for running a tight, disciplined crew, but her very willingness to deal with him means she has something to hide.
Not to mention a hot, tempting package like her could be the cleverest trap his enemies have ever set.
Warning: C
ontains demon bars, virtual (and literal) fights to the death, forbidden love, renegade AIs, a badass truck-driving heroine who will do anything to protect her crew and the half-demon warrior who will move heaven and hell to make her his.
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They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Hammer Down
Copyright © 2012 by Moira Rogers
ISBN: 978-1-60928-560-9
Edited by Anne Scott
Cover by Kanaxa
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: January 2012
www.samhainpublishing.com
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
