Leaning against the pine at the edge of the forest, Duane was overcome with emotion, watching the scene unfold with his mind and eyes. Loud and clear he sensed Lou’s anguish. It wasn’t going to be easy getting Lou and Virgil together but he had to succeed, for it was his duty as The Guardian. And if he failed — well that was not an option.
His thoughts wandered. The Phantom Bigfoot Bather had struck again and it felt good. He chuckled to himself and thought of escalating to his fifth prank. It would be so awesome!
Continued With Book #2
Phantom Bigfoot & The Vampettes From Venus
http://amzn.to/1dTQKVT UK
http://amzn.to/1cVYaVd US
And Phantom Bigfoot & The Haunted House Book #3
Home of the Phantom Bigfoot:
http://facebook.com/simondokillwriter
For all books by Phantom Bigfoot: http://goodreads.com/tassyoneill
About the Author
Paranormal author Simon Okill lives in a South Wales coastal town with his wife. The Phantom Bigfoot Series for teenagers is now complete for stage 1. The series follows the crazy antics of Duane a teenage WereBigfoot and his madcap adventures with his tribe of Bigfoot Babes. Phantom Bigfoot Strikes Again is book #1 - Phantom Bigfoot & The Vampires From Venus is book #2 and Phantom Bigfoot & The Haunted House is book #3.
His dark Gothic vampire romance series Luna is also complete with Luna Sanguis (Blood Moon) and Luna Aeturnus (Eternal Moon). This adult paranormal romance series follows the trials of an amnesiac vampire trapped in an asylum, France 1925.
He is currently working on Hot in Bigelow a desert romance with idiotic aliens desperate to get back home and Murder Most Deadly a black horror comedy set in Cornwall and South Wales.
https://www.amazon.com/author/simondokillwriter
http://twitter.com/simonokill
http://facebook.com/simondokillwriter
https://www.facebook.com/simon.okill?fref=ts
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6590310.Simon_Okill
Seventh Mark
Hidden Secrets Saga
Part 1 of
Book I
By
W. J. May
Copyright 2013 by W.J. May
Hidden Secrets Saga
Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-_vVYC1gvo
Website: http://www.wanitamay.yolasite.com
Facebook:
Author-WJ-May-FAN-PAGE
Cover design by: Book Cover by Design
Edits by: Regina Mitchell
Book III – Marked by Destiny October Coming 2014
Book IV – Compelled Coming 2015
Book Description:
Like most teenagers, Rouge is trying to figure out who she is and what she wants to be. With little knowledge about her past, she has questions but has never tried to find the answers. Everything changes when she befriends a strangely intoxicating family. Siblings Grace and Michael, appear to have secrets which seem connected to Rouge. Her hunch is confirmed when a horrible incident occurs at an outdoor party. Rouge may be the only one who can find the answer.
An ancient journal, a Sioghra necklace and a special mark force life-altering decisions for a girl who grew up unprepared to fight for her life or others.
All secrets have a cost and Rouge’s determination to find the truth can only lead to trouble…or something even more sinister.
*Warning: There are werewolves in this story… and they are not friendly.*
** Warning #2: This book will end on a cliff-hanger. Book 2 picks up where this book ends.**
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2013 by W.J. May
Cover design by W.J. May
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 articles and reviews.
Acknowledgments
To my husband and kids – Love you and all our crazy ways. I wouldn’t change it for anything!
Proper thanks—with jumping up and down cheering, waving hands and shouting at the top of my lungs needs to be sent out to:
Kellie Dennis, Book Cover By Design, who blows my mind with her talent on creating covers. Double thank you!
Chrissy Peebles, for being such a great writing buddy and always available and willing to help. Thank for you for pushing met to get this story out, I’d have never done it without you.
Regina Mitchell, a lovely editor who I have no idea how she finds the time to edit so fast.
And above all else, to my Lord and Saviour who gave me this wild imagination.
Chapter 1
Ear buds stuffed in, I cranked the volume on my iPod and clicked my exercise shuffle. I jogged down the gravel driveway and turned to follow the last bit of sunset. If only I could draw or paint…
Crossing an intersection, I headed left and let my legs carry me away from the small houses, run-down yards, cracked door screens and broken-down cars into a block of bigger houses. The lawns rolled further away from the sidewalk and the houses grew farther apart. Maybe one day I’ll buy a place like this. I snorted at the thought.
Even though I’d never admit it to anyone, a part of me is cursed. Like poison running through my veins, I’ve always believed it would catch up with me. I didn’t know the whys or hows, but deep down it seemed inevitable.
Except now fate intervened, and for once in my life, thank goodness. If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here, in this awesome place on the other side of the country. The whole curse thing was probably just in my head.
I gazed straight in front, between the old giant trees lining the roads. The jagged pink and white peaks reflected snow from the remains of the setting sun made me appreciate the beauty of nature. West coast, oh yeah! I smiled, unable to keep the giddiness inside. I’d lived all my life in Niagara Falls, but this—words couldn’t begin to describe this beauty.
Inhaling real fresh pine scent, not the kind from cleaning agents from the past two days, I savoured the moment. If Family and Children Services hadn’t approved Jim and Sally’s request, I wouldn’t be seeing real mountains for the first time. As quick as the bubble came up, it burst.
Next January I’d be eighteen and no longer at the benefit of the government. Jim and Sally were decent foster parents, but they also made it clear they couldn’t afford to help me with college. I quickened my pace. I didn’t want to think about where I might be in a year.
You’ll be on your own…no family. Nothing. Unwanted again. The imaginary little devil on my left shoulder laughed at me.
Music shouted in my ear, “You’re supposed to be alone. Alone…lone…lone…” I glanced at my left shoulder and pretended to flick the imaginary devil off, nearly crashing into the old high-stoned wall lining the neighborhood. Regaining my balance and focus, I pulled the iPod out of my pocket and skipped to the next song.
Street lights flickered on. My eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness without even letting my brain know. I should turn around before it’s completely black. Didn’t want to be out on my own when I barely knew the area.
A gap ahead in the high wall caught my attention. Curiosity won. Instead of heading back, I p
ushed forward. A public park entrance came into view. Heavy black iron gates led me onto a smooth paved entrance. A large raised garden split the road in two.
A plaque set into the garden’s stone wall made me smile. End of an Era. From the raised stones peeking behind the garden flowers, this was a cemetery, not a park. The owner obviously had a sense of humor along with the desire to create one of those resting places with a welcome. A twenty-something looking woman whizzed by on roller blades, waving as she passed.
The pathways were lit up with those new solar green energy lights. I took the first lane along the outer border and slowed my pace. The tall slate and marble gravestones were erected on the left side with an ancient forest lining the right. I jogged through a part of the cemetery that must’ve been the original lot with worn-down, ancient-looking stones. I paused or weaved between the stones to read the odd one: “1886 John Hartzel — 18 years of age, 1892 Patrick O’Reilly — died too young, Tammy Fortune 1802 -1822.” What’s with this place? Can’t come here if you’re over thirty?
Squinting, I approached a raised tombstone with a concrete angel resting on top. Using my hand, which carried my iPod, I rested it on the corner of the stone to steady myself. I leaned forward for a better look at the inscription. Poor thing— same age as the others. I straightened and pushed off to finish my run. The cord from my iPod snagged the angel’s head, yanking the buds from my ears—the iPod went flying from my hand.
“Crap!” I skidded to a stop on the damp grass and used my palms to hug my ears. It hurt like a bitch. I glanced up at the stone figurine and grimaced. Imagine trying to decapitate an angel. People were probably rolling in their graves right now.
Double crap! My iPod. It better not be busted. Night had fully descended, which didn’t work in my favor. I got down on my knees and began groping in the dark, futilely trying to scan the grass. The little solar lights were useless. “Of course, I had to buy the black case,” I mumbled and shook my head, crawling to check under a nearby bench. Cobwebs caressed my face, which had me doing a karate twitch dance as I tried to knock off any possible spiders and remove the webs.
A twig snapped, followed by a muffled laugh.
I froze, waiting, tense, my head cocked to the side. It was dead quiet. As it should be in a cemetery. No noise. Not a sound.
“Dummy.” I got out from under the bench, sat up and brushed off my sweatshirt. It’d taken months to save for the iPod. I dropped down to search again clawing at chunks of grass. I’m not leaving till I find it, even if I have to swallow some hairy, icky spiders.
“You lose something?” A low, gruff voice broke through the dark. “Or are you digging your own grave?”
Chapter 2
My heart leapt to my throat. I smacked my head on the bottom of the bench. “Flippin’ heck!” I scrambled back, rubbing the sore spot, paranoid about how high my butt hung in the air. My luck, it was probably some graveyard rapist.
The stranger said nothing. All I could see was the outline of a pair of feet covered with white Converse sneakers. I noisily sucked in a rapid breath, not realizing I’d held it.
“Sorry,” the husky male voice said, sounding amused. “I didn't mean to startle you. This probably isn’t the best place to sneak up on someone.” He cleared his throat. “Are you looking for something?”
His voice turned soft, but masculine. Not the kind of voice you expected to hear in a cemetery.
Then again, what kind of voice would one expect to hear?
I glanced up then fell back on my butt. A boy, standing a few feet away from me, definitely didn’t belong in a cemetery. Too tanned, too blond, too…wow, hot.
Very tall, especially from where I sat on the ground. I had to make an effort to drag my eyes away from his face. Even in the dark, his blue eyes flashed against the moonlight. He had the blondest hair I’d ever seen, like a Viking’s.
Not a psycho or kidnapper, just a kid like me. I relaxed and stood, brushing my shorts. Why are you in the cemetery? I didn’t bother to ask. He probably wondered the same about me. With my luck, he’d just visited his girlfriend’s tombstone. Man, I’m awful.
I quickly shut my mouth, which hung open. Coughing, I spoke a little too loudly. “I-I lost my iPod.”
Another chuckle erupted from his lips, sounding like it belonged in the movies. Hollywood-boy walked around me and behind the upright stone angel. He bent down behind it and pulled a long, white string. My eyes widened and for a split second I thought about running. What did he plan on doing? Strangling me?
Then it dawned on me, the white string belonged to my ear buds. A sure sign when the iPod followed along, like a fish on a line. The wind caught behind me and blew escaped ponytail hair into my face. Irritated, I brushed it away from my eyes.
He paused before turning. “It smells…” He inhaled. “…like liquorice.”
I sniffed. “It smells like dead people. Well, like damp grass.” The lawn looked to have been cut a couple of days ago. Clumps of old grass lay under the cement bench, emitting a rotten smell like old cheese.
He straightened and flashed a smile, his teeth bright against the dark of night. “You’re not from around here, are you?” He held out my iPod and dropped it onto my outstretched hand.
“Got here yesterday.” I stuffed the iPod in my pocket. “Thanks. I’m Rouge.”
An eyebrow disappeared behind his hair. “Michael.” He grinned and held out his hand which I shook lightly.
Pleasantly cool. They’d feel good on my cheeks which are freakin’ burning right now. That thought made them flame even more.
“The iPod didn’t manage to pull your ears off?”
“You caught that?” Now I wanted to crawl into one of the graves.
“I rounded the bend…” he pointed in the opposite direction from where I’d come, “…when I noticed you trying to decapitate this poor angel here.” He patted the figure.
I sensed a smile in his voice.
He cleared his throat and took a step back.
“What’re you doing in the cemetery?” I blurted, unable to hide my curiosity.
“Taking a break.” He grinned like he’d made a joke. “Are you going to continue your run?” He shifted like he was surprised he had asked the question. He cleared his throat. “Otherwise I can walk with you to the main road.”
“I think it’s safer if I walk.” We started towards the main road. “Do you live around here?” I grimaced at the needy sound in my voice.
“Not too far.”
“My place is that way.” I pointed to the left.
“I’m that way.” He nodded in the other direction.
We continued in silence while I wracked my brain trying to come up with something witty to say.
“Well, maybe I’ll see you around.” I stared at my runners. Brilliant, Rouge. Brilliant.
“Welcome to Port Coquitlam, Rouge.” He started off without a glance back.
I stood admiring his…could jeans really fit that perfect on a rear end? I forced my eyes away. “He’s a guy, not a god.” My gaze flicked back when a low, bouncy noise sounded. Did he just laugh?
His pace never slowed nor did he turn around.
I started slowly jogging home. My heart stuttered and flopped against my chest. I didn’t know if it came from the near fright or the closeness of the very hot boy.
Michael was on my mind that night and again when I woke the next morning. Where did he live? Would he be at school? He seemed so cool and together. Usually I avoided guys in general, and if one did catch my eye, dark-hair, brown eyes and brooding were the prerequisite.
The next evening, I jogged to the cemetery, grinning when I passed the angel, and gave her a wink. Then I headed north, the way Michael had gone when he left last night. What were the chances I’d actually find his street, let alone his house? I stopped mid-street and turned to walk home—stalker wasn’t one of my personality traits.
Friday morning I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to get out of Jim and Sall
y’s house to escape and clear my thoughts. They’d been bickering non stop about fixing the house, Sally’s job, Jim’s lack of a job and anything else which seemed to pop into their heads.
Through the grey clouds, the air hung heavy with a cool breeze hinting at an end-of-summer storm. The sun kept trying to poke its way through the dark.
As I headed out the front door, I grabbed a baseball cap in case it rained and walked towards the high school. Figuring out where a few of my classes were would save wandering the halls next week.
The limestone near the front entrance of the high school had 1922 imprinted on it… The buildings were created with copper red brick throughout and had large windows on both floors. The school might be small, but its structure was unique. An architectural plaque, showing the school’s layout, hung plastered into the brick. In the center lay a courtyard, like that of an old castle.
The very posh building and grounds reminded me of the kind of boarding schools in movies or books. It made me nervous. I hadn’t fit into the big high school back in Niagara Falls. What were the chances I’d fit in here, a small school? I kicked a pebble on the sidewalk. It was only one year, so it didn’t really matter what happened. I just needed to keep up my grades to score some sort of scholarship. Thank goodness school came easy — science, math, even English — just don’t put me in the choir or art, and I’d be fine.
Claws of Doom Page 54
