Deadly Rising

by Jeri Westerson

  Seven o’clock. I peered in through the window of my back door. The Wiccans were pretty much how I left them: Doc pacing; Jolene with her tablet in a wingback, though she was staring off into space instead of working; Nick munched absentmindedly on another pizza slice, cold by now; Seraphina’s eyes were closed, palms turned upward on her lap.

  I couldn’t go in. The sunset had dispersed and it was cold, but I still couldn’t go in. I couldn’t be comfortable and warm while he was still out there, suffering God knows how much. I sat on the glider again, slowly rocking back and forth, watching night fall on the forest and hills above.

  Seven thirty. “Erasmus!” I whispered into the darkness. “You’re supposed to come when I call. Where are you? Are you okay? Come now!”

  Silence. A lonely birdcall. A rustling in the underbrush—perhaps a mouse. But no demon.

  Eight o’clock. I burst through the back door. “Where is he?”

  Doc looked up forlornly and then down at his watch. Jolene bit her lip and lowered her face, pretending to read her tablet. Nick kept dog-earing an old book from Doc’s library while he stared at me. Seraphina rose smoothly from her seat and laid her hands on my shoulders.

  “Where is he, Seraphina?”

  No one said anything. I wanted to scream at them. You said this would work! You said he’d be all right! Where is he?

  A sudden noise outside startled us all. Snarling and howling.

  Everyone rushed toward the window, but I got there first. The sheriff’s Interceptor was parked skewed in the street. Ed stood in the headlight’s beam, aiming his gun. He was shouting at something just out of the beam’s reach, something making a horrific howling noise. No! Something else had come out of the Booke again. I wasn’t ready. I needed Erasmus.

  I cast open the door and ran out into the frigid night. The crossbow slammed into my grip and I felt a momentary sense of calm.

  Ed flicked his gaze toward me. “Kylie! Get back inside.”

  “What is it?”

  “Get back inside! It’s a wolf.”

  The headlights flared over the blond fur. Jeff was a wolf again, snarling and snapping his jaws. I threw the crossbow behind me. It had armed itself with the silver-tipped bolt but there was no way I was going to kill Jeff.

  “Ed, you have to believe me. It’s okay. Just get back in your car.”

  “Kylie, goddammit! Get inside!”

  “Ed, it’s okay. He won’t hurt me, but you have to get back in your car.” I took a few tentative steps closer. Jeff turned his yellow eyes toward me.

  Ed adjusted his grip on the gun, stance wide on the asphalt. “Kylie, please…”

  My hands were reaching toward Jeff when suddenly I was on my back. I’d been slammed into the gravel, the wind knocked out of me. It made no sense. Stars winked and flew around my head. Something heavy sat on my chest.

  The roaring snarl was closer now, and I looked up, expecting—hell, I had no idea what to expect.

  An unfamiliar muscled man was pinning me down. Still dazed, I took in his appearance in flashes. High cheekbones and a square jaw. Large eyes set under curved brows. A sharp nose. Thin, tight clothing fit him like a seal’s skin. Wings sprouting out from his shoulder blades. He almost reminded me of an owl.

  A growl rumbled from his throat and vibrated his whole body.

  “You are the human Kylie Strange,” he said. He had a deep, rich voice to match his body…which was slowly crushing me into the ground.

  “I…I…”

  A swipe of a clawed hand threw his head to the side. Three stripes of black blood began to flow from his cheek. He slowly turned his head to the werewolf growling and barking beside him.

  “He wants you to get off me,” I said, trying to breathe.

  “This is unusual,” said the strange man. He rose, grabbing my neck and lifting me upright.

  “Not helping the breathing,” I choked, scratching at his immovable hands.

  “Step away from her and put your hands up!” Ed ordered.

  “Get away from here, Ed!”

  “I’m going to fire if you don’t let her go!”

  Gunshot. The report echoed up and down the hills, dissipating beyond the forest.

  The man released me and I fell. I hadn’t realized how big he was, but I had been about a foot off the ground. I coughed and sputtered as I scooted back, feeling behind me for the crossbow. It slid into my hand.

  The man…creature…whatever…turned. Though black blood was smeared on that tight shirt made of some kind of skin and across his pretty white wing feathers, it had apparently done no harm.

  “Is that a weapon?” he asked.

  “Officer requests assistance,” said Ed breathlessly to his shoulder mic. His gun was still trained on the man. “Down on the ground. Now!”

  “I do not understand.”

  Jeff rushed him. They tumbled on the asphalt, rolling, barking, snarling, blond fur and white feathers flying everywhere. The man just took it, not bothering to fight back.

  What kind of creature was this? I looked at the crossbow bolt. It hadn’t changed. I was afraid to shoot in case I hit Jeff.

  He reared up suddenly and threw Jeff off. Jeff landed hard with a doggy whine and was still. I swung the crossbow at the creature’s torso and didn’t hesitate. I pulled the trigger and the bolt flew, hitting him square in the belly.

  That got his attention. His eyes flew open and he cried out. He fell to one knee, yanking on the bolt and heaving it away from him. Black muck dribbled out of the wound, but there were no bursts of light and the Booke never appeared. He staggered back, glaring at me.

  “They did not say you would resist.”

  “They? Who sent you? Who…what are you?”

  “I am the Ancient One, the demon Andras, Killer of Men. You are to die.”

  “Yeah, well. I don’t die easy.”

  “So I see.” He swept us with his gaze: the Wiccans frozen in the doorway, Ed with his gun pointed, and Jeff still and silent on the ground.

  He grinned, his mouth full of sharp teeth. “I have nothing but time,” he said.

  He leapt. I raised my arms for protection, but he wasn’t aiming for me. Spreading his wings, he soared over my shop and into the gloom of night. The sound of his beating wings drifted into the mist.

  So that was Assassin Owl Boy. Freaking great.

  But then I saw Jeff. Scrambling toward him, I shook his shoulder. Maybe not the smartest thing to do with a werewolf, but…

  “Jeff! Are you okay? Jeff!” He was breathing harshly, his dog tongue lolling out of his mouth. I hoped he was just knocked out cold. “Doc, can you help?”

  He rushed over and knelt beside me.

  The gravel crunched. Something cast a shadow over me. Shit. Ed. He lowered his gun to his side and stared past me at Jeff.

  “Kylie,” he said softly, uncertainly. “What the hell is going on? That’s…that’s not a wolf.”

  “I know, Ed. Help us get him inside and I’ll try to explain.”

  My coven surrounded the blond werewolf and carefully lifted him, shuffling to get him inside. When I looked back, Ed was still standing on my gravel parking lot, gun hanging limply from his hand, his Smokey Bear hat askew, and a strange and faraway look on his slackened face.

  To Be Continued in Booke Three

  AUTHOR’S AFTERWORD

  Thanks for reading! The story deepens. The characters are more involved than ever before. And there are even more surprises to come. Booke Three proves more horrendous for Kylie and her coven when mysterious trudging figures appear in a strange mist falling over Moody Bog. Doug and his gang are still up to no good, and a demon and a god wreak havoc.

  If you liked the book, please review it! And don’t forget to sign up for my quarterly newsletter and keep up with other news on my website, BOOKEoftheHIDDEN.com.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks go to my publisher Keith Wallman and my editor Lyd
ia Youngman at EverAfter/Diversion who scooped up the series and saved it from obscurity; to my agents Lisa Rogers and Joshua Bilmes for adding their own brand of magic; to the copy editors, cover designers, and publicist—I know you guys work hard with nary a glance, but I noticed and appreciated; to my husband who told me to write down this weird dream I had in the first place and who is the best support a wife and a writer ever had; and finally to my readers—long may you wave!—who are giving this strange supernatural world a chance.