Dark Muse: An Indie Paranormal Sampler

by Dave Ferraro

If there ever was a time for me to soil my underwear, it was now. Thankfully, that didn't happen. Brad approached, malice gleaming in his eyes.

  Katie gripped his arm. "Stop, Brad. Please!"

  He jerked his arm free and promptly ignored her. He looked me up and down. It didn't take long, considering I was at least a full head shorter. He wasn't nearly as tall as Nathan, but that didn't matter. I waited for him to say something. Instead, he buried his fist in my stomach.

  My backpack fell from my shoulder. I staggered back, gasping for breath and wheeling to the right. A low leafless hedge tripped me. My face planted in a puddle of muck. I jerked my head clear and took in a shuddering breath but got a mouthful of brown slime instead. Mud caked the left side of my glasses and dribbled down my cheek. Through the right side, I saw Mark and Harry snorting with laughter next to a couple of other guys I didn't know. They caught my gaze and sobered, apologetic expressions on their faces. Rage flared in my chest. I pushed myself to my knees. I didn't care what happened. I was going to beat the crap out of Brad.

  Before I could stand, however, Brad grabbed my jacket and hauled me backwards over the hedge. He snatched off my knit cap and tossed it away before shoving me on my back. Cold dampness seeped into the seat of my pants. He'd dropped me right into a freezing water puddle on the sidewalk. I tried to spring to my feet, but my clumsy girth hampered me and made it a slow climb instead. I rolled onto my knees, soaking the front of my pants. My hands went numb with cold.

  Katie had Brad by the arm again. He shoved her away and she hit her head on the door. Raw fury flowed into my veins. Do something, you fat idiot! Pain burst into my skull. It wasn't from Brad this time. It was my stupid migraines flaring up again. Brad's fist caught me in the cheek. My glasses flew off. My jaw ached but didn't hurt nearly as much as it should have. I roared. Brad howled with laughter. I probably looked like an infuriated chipmunk.

  "Look at the angry little pig," he said. Gales of laughter chimed in from the onlookers.

  I jumped to my feet. He came at me again, fist cocked, eyes smug. I swung. My fist connected. His jaw made a terrible popping noise. His legs wobbled. An astonished look came over his stupid face and he dropped to the sidewalk right into the same puddle he'd put me in.

  The headache vanished but everything went blurry, which was odd because it usually happened while I had the headache. I fumbled on the ground for my glasses. A gentle hand touched mine and pressed the glasses into it. I put them on. The filth had been cleaned off. I looked up, expecting to see Katie smiling at her new hero. Instead I choked back a gasp as the Goth girl came into focus.

  Katie hovered over Brad, tears in her eyes. She put his head in her lap and smoothed his cropped hair. My mouth dropped open. Why was she babying that asshole? I almost screamed in frustration.

  Harry and Mark walked up.

  "Holy crap, man!" Harry said, his eyes full of suppressed laughter. "Didn't think you had it in you."

  "I hope it was entertaining," I growled.

  Harry smirked. "Look, man, it was kind of funny."

  I lunged at him and knocked him on his butt. The smirk vanished.

  "Thank God I have such great friends," I said, shouting for everyone to hear. "People I can count on when some asshole is beating the crap out of me."

  Mark placed himself between me and Harry. "What the hell, Justin?"

  Harry leapt to his feet, pushed past Mark, and shoved me. "You idiot," he spat. "You never had a chance with Katie. You're just a delusional nerd like the rest of us."

  Hot tears threatened to break loose, but I fought them back. I wouldn't give these people the satisfaction of seeing me cry even if they were tears of fury. I glanced at Katie as she helped Brad off the ground. She didn't even look at me. The Goth girl was, though. She stood near the entrance, a curious expression on her face as students filed inside the school now that the spectacle was over. It amazed me how anyone with so many piercings could ever look sympathetic. I didn't want her sympathy or her pity. She was an even bigger loser than me. Her devil-may-care attitude and devil worshipper clothes begged for the attention she craved. Her reality probably included an abusive family and a trailer park.

  I grabbed my backpack off the ground and made a beeline for the Jetta before my rage caused me to do anything else stupid. I climbed into the car and slammed the steering wheel with the palm of my hand. I stared back at the school. I had to go home and change clothes. Grime coated my shirt and pants and I wasn't about to go inside looking like this.

  I screeched out of the parking lot, but didn't make it far before a fat tear clouded my vision. I pulled over in front of a liquor store to fight the sudden storm of angry tears that threatened to break loose. I would not cry, dammit. I looked at myself in the rear-view mirror. Muddy rivulets streaked my cheeks. Dirt glommed onto my sweaty face. I looked like something from a horror film. Maybe I was a monster. A hunch-backed Igor, destined to be the untouchable low man on the totem pole forever. Life had been so easy on me up until this point. Good parents, good friends, and harmless nerdly pursuits. It was like God had come down and kicked my life in the balls. It hurt like crazy.

  An approaching bum gave me a wide-eyed look. He pulled an about-face and went to beg money from someone who didn't look as psychotic as I did.

  I pulled out my cell phone. It took me several minutes to calm my mind enough to compose a text to Katie.

  Are you okay?

  I waited and waited for her response. Minutes ticked by and nothing. Stupid hussy. How could she help that jerk after what he'd done to her? I screamed in impotent rage and balled up my fists.

  "Why don't you want me?" I asked the absent girl that I craved so badly. I almost heard the snap as my heart broke in two.

  My phone chimed. My heart lightened. Finally, she'd responded. Instead, it was a text from the wireless company, telling me my bill was ready to view. I fought the urge to smash my phone through the car window, instead gripping the steering wheel as if it were the last thing preventing me from falling into a ravine. There had to be a poem in this pain somewhere.

  A cheerful ding informed me the Jetta was almost out of fuel. I pounded the steering wheel and drove to a Quick Trip gas station before I compounded my misery with a long walk.

  As the gas gallon counter slowly ticked upward and the dollar amount skyrocketed to epic proportions, a low growling caught my ear. I looked at the dumpsters about twenty feet to my left. A large brown Rottweiler snarled at a huddled black form trapped between a brown metal dumpster and the brick wall bordering the refuse area. I took a few cautious steps forward until I could make out the black furry shape of a very perturbed cat. It arched its back and hissed at the dog.

  The Rottweiler pounced. The cat leapt back. Huge slobbering jaws snapped on empty air. Why did the big guys always have to pick on the little ones? Bullies like Brad and Nathan and this stupid dog were one and the same. Anger-fueled lunacy replaced the final dredges of logic in my addled mind. I ran at the huge dog, yelling and waving my arms like an idiot. The dog turned toward me, hackles raised, and bared its very sharp and very scary teeth. It lunged for my leg, teeth clacking. I shrieked and jumped back.

  The beast snarled and charged. I swung my leg in an awkward defensive gesture. Somehow, my foot caught the dog right in the nose with a loud crack. He yelped and rolled on the ground. The little black cat had jumped to the top of the dumpster during the fray and seemed to be quite entertained. I reached for him while the dog staggered dizzily nearby. I was afraid the cat might claw me but he settled into my arms and meowed happily as I raced for my car. I didn't want to be anywhere near that dog when it recovered.

  I miraculously remembered to pull the gas pump nozzle out of the fuel filler and to screw on the fuel cover even as I trembled like someone whose stomach had just informed them the Indian food they'd eaten was, in fact, about to tear their digesti
ve system to shreds.

  I sat in the car and put the cat in the passenger seat. For a moment, all I could hear was my own panicked breathing. I couldn't believe I'd done it. That dog could have rabies. It could have maimed me. I figured a good old-fashioned mauling would have fit right in with today's fantastic milestones.

  My parents weren't home when I arrived. I went in and washed up, fed the cat some leftovers while I figured out what in the world to do next. The cat meowed in what I interpreted as a voicing of sympathy and complete understanding of my fragile emotional state, his midnight-black fur rubbing against my outstretched hand.

  "Thanks," I said, taking a deep breath to calm my palpitating heart. "You're kind of a brave little cat, aren't you?" I took a moment or two to properly contemplate what I should call him. "Welcome to my world, Captain Tibbs."

  He cocked his head to the side and meowed, a clear indication he loved his new name.

  I stared at the clock on the wall. It was almost lunchtime and returning to school seemed stupid at this point. Only pain and misery waited in that place.

  I went into the garage and opened Dad's fridge. Beer crammed every shelf.

  "Holy crap," I said. Was dad going off the deep end? I found a six-pack of the beer he'd given me last night and grabbed a couple of bottles from it. I shut the door halfway, hesitated, and opened it again. I took the entire six-pack to my room. Anger burned in my chest every time I thought about Katie or Brad effing Nichols, not to mention my supposed friends who'd laughed at me while Brad used me for a punching bag.

  I guzzled two of the beers and felt a little better. I guzzled another one, burped, and tasted the nuked lasagna I'd eaten the day before. Captain Tibbs settled into my lap and purred.

  "At least you're my friend, aren't you?" I scratched behind his ears.

  A warm comfortable feeling spread out from my stomach. I chugged another beer and decided things weren't so horrible after all. By the time I finished the first six-pack, things seemed great. In fact, my mind felt clearer than ever about what I needed to do. I went into the garage and grabbed another six-pack. Time to put my plans into motion.

  Found out what happens in next in Sweet Blood of Mine:

  Justin Case and women do not mix. Man boobs, a love of Kings and Castles, and being tight with the "nerd" crowd certainly don't win him any points either. After rescuing Katie, his crush, it turns out she might not be the girl he thought she was, while Elayna, the school's Goth Girl, turns out to be more. Can high school get any more confusing?

  Determined to improve himself, he joins a gym and meets a sexy girl that just oozes a "come hither, Justin" vibe. Until she attacks him in the parking lot, and Justin realizes she's no ordinary girl but a being with supernatural speed and strength. After a narrow escape and an excruciating migraine headache, he wakes up with supernatural abilities all his own, including the ability to seduce every woman he sees.

  While that might sound like the perfect combo for any hormonal teen, Justin is a hopeless romantic who wants his first time to be special. Is that too much to ask for? But he doesn't know what he is or how to stop his carnal urges. One thing is clear: if he doesn't find answers there are other more sinister supernaturals who would like nothing better than to do far worse than kill him.

  Connect with John Corwin online:

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/johnhcorwinautho...

  Blog https://johncorwin.blogspot.com/

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/John_Corwin

  Books by John Corwin:

  Sweet Blood of Mine

  No Darker Fate

  The Next Thing I Knew

  Outsourced

  Seventh

  About the Authors

  Dave Ferraro grew up in Brooklyn Park, Minnesota, where he was warped by a steady diet of comic books, horror movies and young adult novels. He is the author of the paranormal fantasy series Hunters of the Dark, as well as the gay teen paranormal romance Twice Bitten. He graduated with a B.A. in English and creative writing from Saint Cloud State University, and currently resides in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

  Nicole Passante is a happily married mother of two boys, Dominic and Drew. Her husband and best friend is a web programming genius and she helps run his company as well as her own. Her passion for books led her to start ShareAread.com, which helps connect authors with the readers who love them. Her favorite genres are paranormal romance, fantasy and dystopian. Nicole resides in Tampa, Florida with her family and her dog Tiki, and enjoys frequent trips to Disney with her boys. She is H. D. Gordon's agent/publicist, and has helped H. D. tremendously in becoming a bestselling author.

  H. D. Gordon is the author of The Alexa Montgomery Saga. Blood Warrior, the first book of the Alexa series, was her debut novel and has held a spot in the top 100 fantasy bestsellers for over a month. Half Black Soul is the second book in this series and H. D. plans to complete Alexa's tales by the end of 2012. In May of 2012, Joe, a fantasy novel about a young clairvoyant, will be released as well. H. D. is a lifelong reader and writer, a true lover of words. When she is not reading or writing, she is raising her two daughters, playing a little guitar, and spending time with her family. She is twenty three years old and lives in the northeastern United States.

  Krystle Jones was born and raised in the small, southern town of Tullahoma, Tennessee. Reading and writing have been lifeling passions of hers. In addition to being a novelist, she is also an award-winning flutist, and moonlights as a voice actress. Her voice can be heard in the popular online game, Alice is Dead 3.

  Christie Rich spent her childhood dreaming about other times and places. She has spent the majority of her adult life working in the health care industry, but has rediscovered her love for make believe. When she is not writing, she enjoys painting, spending time with her husband and two children, and trying new ways to express her creativity.

  Kristie (K.C.) King’s love affair with books began with Charlotte’s Web when she was eight. A true Aquarian, she’s a dreamer whose John Grisham obsession resulted in her choice to study linguistics and law. When she’s not travelling or enjoying cappuccinos in kangaroo cups, you’ll probably find her in her own world: somewhere between Metropolis and Austen’s 19th Century England.

  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. A reader all his life, he began writing novels for the children’s and YA markets in 2010. David is 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, and prefers writing at the swimming pool to writing at a table.

  Nancy Straight, born in Sioux City Iowa, left the cold of the Midwest in 1991 and only returns to see family in the Summer time. She spent ten years traveling the world as a US Marine and settled in rural SC with her husband, two children and three dogs. She enjoys RVing with her family, writing Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy and reading all types of Paranormal and Young Adult literature.

  Roxanne Kade knew she wanted to be an author as early as the fifth grade. She grew up in a suburb of Johannesburg, South Africa before moving to Kwa-Zulu Natal during high school. It was here she spent the next fifteen years finding her voice and practicing her talent. During that time, Roxanne worked a number of odd jobs from waiting tables to a one day stint as a Can-Can dancer. It took forgetting who she truly was before a devastating turn of events made her remember the joys and escape of the written word. Through writing, Roxanne was able to rediscover herself and her passion. She currently lives in wonderful Durban, South Africa and when she is not writing, she’s often with family and her dog, Blade.

  Bonnie Wheeler, a senior at the University of Connecticut, is an author of both young adult paranormal romance and women’s contemporary fiction. In addition to her novel Fate Fixed, she is going to be publishing Body of Ash,
Blood Twist: An Erris Coven Novel, and Midnight Fireflies: A Collection of Poems and Short Stories, within the next year. As a resident of Litchfield County, Bonnie enjoys spending her time with her husband, Jerry, and her three children: Miranda, Justin, and Bobby.

  Megan Curd is a graduate of Northwestern College in St. Paul, Minnesota. While having always enjoyed reading any books she could get her hands on, Megan didn't begin writing until a friend encouraged her to do so while in college. When not writing, Megan enjoys spending time with her family and friends. Traveling and snowboarding are hobbies she loves, and doesn't turn down the opportunity to play xBox with her brother and friends when it presents itself. Megan currently resides in Eau Claire, Wisconsin with her husband and son, where she haunts her local cafe while escaping into new stories.

  Shannon Dermott's first love is reading, to dive into other realities, to explore and brave new worlds. To share her writing is the best experience of all. Her first series explores the life and trials of being Mercy Moore, a teenage cambion. When Shannon isn't writing, she loves to shop and watch horror movies that make turning out the lights seem like a stupid idea. You can explore more about her at her website www.shannondermott.com, on facebook, goodreads, and twitter.

  John Corwin has been making stuff up all his life. As a child, he would tell his sisters he was an alien clone of himself and would eat tree bark to prove it. In middle school, John started writing for realz. He wrote short stories about Fargo McGronsky, a young boy with anger management issues whose dog, Noodles, had been hit by a car. The violent stories were met with loud acclaim from classmates and a great gnashing of teeth by his English teacher. Years later, after college and successful stints as a plastic food wrap repairman and a toe model for GQ, John once again decided to put his overactive imagination to paper for the world to share and became an author.