

A sampler pack

By Jill Cooper

# Devour

Stand Alone Paranormal Romance

Life in Gloucester Massachusetts will never be the same.

Raging storms, fierce winds, shadows shifting in the breeze. Storms are nothing new for the fishing hamlet.

But darkness has come to claim the hearts and minds of those that stand in it too long. When that happens, love will be ripped from man leaving only violence, despair, and gnashing teeth.

Except for two.

Roberta is a single mom, a waitress struggling to get through life after a rocky start tainted by murder and loss. Her heart yearns for Gabriel; a deputy living in the shadow of the chief. He's a battle weary soldier ready to settle down.

When the storm comes, when the murders start, it will be up to them to stop it before darkness isn't just an empty void.

Chapter One

Roberta

"Your father wants to see you."

I heard the words and I choked on my coffee. It sprayed out of my mouth, covering the counter. All I could think was 'what a waste of coffee'. Quickly searched for a rag. "Excuse me?" My voice shook. I didn't know what else to say.

"I know, Ms. Blake, it's been years since he's asked to see you. But he's an old man now and if you could find it in your heart--."

"To see the man that killed my mother?" I blurted the words out and my eyes narrowed to match the anger brewing in my heart. The anger that would never defuse, leaving my emotions like a ticking time bomb.

"He has something on his chest he needs to get off. He can't hurt you anymore, but if you could do this one thing and come to the prison. See him this one time—."

"To make him feel better?" I snorted and threw the sopping wet rag into the sink. My eyes surveyed the living room to make sure Danielle hadn't made her entrance yet. When I was sure she was still safe in her room, I turned around, resting my back up against the counter.

"He says he has something important to tell you. Give you a warning."

"A warning?" My heart dropped. "You mean a threat, don't you?"

"Personally I think it's an excuse just to get you here. The time hasn't been kind to him. I don't think he has much longer on this Earth. I wouldn't want to live with that sort of regret, would you?"

I didn't say good-bye. I just hung up the phone and sighed, putting my hands on my hips. For once I wished the phone company had followed through with their threats and turned off my phone.

I tried to shake it off. I had no choice. There were things I needed to do. Like drop my daughter off at school, get to work, and forget that my dad wanted anything to do with me. I was a kid when he last tried to see me. So why couldn't he leave well enough alone?

I threw together a sloppy sandwich consisting of ham and cheese. Then I slid it into the pink lunchbox on the cluttered counter. "Come on Danielle!" I yelled and took the last bite of my toast before rinsing off my plate. In the distance I heard the stomping of feet. Time to forget my problems and become mom.

But it was hard, damn hard.

Hard when you could barely remember your mom except for images of her blood stained night gown, laying on her bed. While your father screamed, swore, in ways you had never seen before. It was enough to drive a young girl mad.

A moment later there Danielle was with swaying blond pigtails with a speckle of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Cute as a button and her coloring was reminiscent of her dead father.

Life was nothing but hardship, pain and grief. I learned that early on.

"We're going to be late." I sighed and handed the pink, sparkling backpack over. Danielle grinned, showing off her missing front tooth and I melted at the sight. Her smile had a way of winning me over even when I was stressed out of my gourd.

I leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Grab your jacket and let's go peanut."

"Got it!" Danielle went on running again for her room. One pink tutu over yellow leggings with bright purple rain boots wouldn't have been my first choice for school, but little girls must be little girls. Rick bought her that tutu and even though it was frayed now, I didn't have the heart to tell her to change.

I put my raincoat on over my blue waitress uniform. It wasn't raining, but the morning air was always filled with dew when you lived by the ocean.

And in the fishing town of Gloucester, it was all by the ocean.

We left our small brownstone apartment and headed across the street to my beat up Cutlass, blue and it never met a bump on the road it liked. The thing could creak and groan like an old man on its death bed, but hopefully the car still had some life in it. Danielle jumped in the backseat while I smiled at Mr. Harper walking down the sidewalk. Even early in the morning downtown was hopping.

It was a good day for it too. There were a few clouds in the sky, but the sun was shining brightly and my sprits lifted as I turned on the old girl. The motor roared to life and barely made the tink tink noise it had been doing the last several mornings.

You took good days where you could get them.

The radio buzzed to life with static and a hum. "...in other news memorial service for Nathan Johnson starts tomorrow at 2PM over at the Miller Funeral Home on Essex..."

My heart banged and I swatted at the dial, turning the damn thing off. How many times had I seen Nathan and his wife at the market? Now he was just another line of fisherman lost at sea.

Just like Rick.

How many fisherman were going to die before anyone took the risks seriously? Nobody wanted to talk about what was really going on. Fisherman out on boats at the wrong time of year. Fisherman disappearing with no traces and their boats so beat up, it was like they were chewed up by something with big teeth.

It didn't make any sense. People thought I was a conspiracy theorist. Maybe it was true, but nothing would settle the rumble in my gut.

Danielle was quiet as we drove toward her school. Through the rear view mirror I saw her doodling in her notebook with one of her glitter crayons. Her lip twisted to the side while she concentrated, just like her dad. My heart panged with the memory and his smell, his whisper against my neck in the middle of the night, left me so numb I barely felt the pain.

"Drawing anything good?"

She grinned. "Just Daddy."

My fingers clenched the steering wheel. Almost a year and it seemed the only pictures she really ever drew, were of her dead father. I knew she missed him, I just wished she would move on. The school psychologists said it would happen in time, I just wished that time was already there.

For both of us.

I must have spaced out because suddenly someone stepped out in front of the crosswalk. My teeth gritted together and I slammed on the breaks. Tense fingers gripped the steering wheel as the car came to a screeching halt. I lunged forward and then rocked back.

The old lady was pushing her walker and didn't even pat an eye at me. Damn, old broad. I laid in on the horn and only then did she glance at me, but her face was unmoving, almost like stone.

"Jesus," I muttered under my breath and threw a look back at Danielle. I was taken aback by how fine she was, just continuing to draw something in her notebook. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah." She whispered. "I don't want to be late."

"Right." I sighed. "School." My foot eased on the gas and we started again, passing by the quaint old brick buildings that made up our downtown. From old smoke shops, to antique stores, and coffee shops, it was all here. It was quaint and made for the perfect stroll in those summer months.

When we arrived at the school, I pulled into the drop off lane. "Bye, sweet pea." Danielle reached into the front and hugged me. "I'll pick you up at Kate's once I get off work."

She nodded with a faint smile. I wondered what she thought of spending so much time with her babysitter; if she missed me being home all the time. Didn't matter much, I couldn't change how things were, but I worried about her. Missed her. Some days I was just treading water. Barely paying the bills, barely being her mother.

I sat there for so long, I missed Danielle making it safe inside and behind me someone wailed on their horn. Guess that's what I deserved for honking at an eighty year old woman crossing the street. "Okay, okay!" I hissed and cranked the wheel.

Time to get to George's Diner.

A small unassuming building a few blocks from the school was where I had worked since Rick died. It wasn't exactly run down, but the shutters didn't close all the way anymore. The screen door squeaked as I pried it open and the sweet smell of pancakes greeted me.

"Morning," I said with as much cheer as I could muster and bustled to the back to hang up my coat. The cooks were busy sizzling bacon and doing prep for the lunch specials. When I got to the counter I eyed the clock and saw I was five minutes late.

Typical. What else was knew.

George gruffed from inside the kitchen. A big bald man with more chins than pimples, and that was saying a lot.

"Sorry, George." I gritted my teeth and grimaced as I waited for him to yell at me, or dock my pay.

Instead he just went. "Hmmpf. Good help is hard to find these days."

"If you wanted good help, dear than maybe you should consider paying us more." Harriet said with a hearty chuckle. Dear old Harriet had been at the diner since it opened over thirty years ago. A sweet old woman with gray curls and a matching sweater over her waitress uniform, her bones creaked, but her spirit would never be dampened. That's what she always said anyway. She was one of the two bright spots in my life since joining George's Diner.

Lord knew George wasn't one of them. But he put up with me when he didn't have to. So maybe I should have tried harder to get to work on time, but it seemed no matter what I did, nothing ever went right.

The door chimed and I glanced over, fluffing my red curls slightly. He was right on time.

With Brooding wide shoulders, Deputy Gabriel Manning could fill out a uniform in all the right places. His hair was sandy brown, and soft like an ocean's wave. My heart skipped a beat in the way it had when I knew Gabriel growing up, but what girl hadn't had a crush on him?

"Deputy." I said with a smile as I poured a cup of coffee into a Styrofoam cup and attached a lid. "Danish?"

"Not today. I have to watch the calories." Gabriel smiled and patted his perfectly flat stomach. Perfectly perfect was more like it. On more than one occasion I had imagined him without his shirt. Always made me feel guilty, I wasn't ready to move on, and he just wasn't my friend.

He was Rick's friend too.

That just made it a whole host of complicated and while I knew Gabriel should have been off-limits, nobody told my heart that.

He took the coffee and his fingers swept across mine gently, but I knew he did it on purpose. It made me blush, but my heart sprouted wings. He had been working up to something for a while, but I never said anything. Always pretended I didn't notice. My heart shouted at me through a bullhorn to say or do anything, but the guilt stopped me.

Guilt like I was betraying my dead soon-to-be-husband with his closest friend. Meanwhile Rick was somewhere at the bottom of Gloucester Harbor, still never found.

"Busy day ahead?" I asked and busied myself with wiping down the counter as the door chimed again. The early morning breakfast crowd was arriving, just on time.

"Oh, the usual. Ms. Davis will complain about loud noise coming from across the street at about 10AM. Then I might get to rescue a cat stuck in a tree. Oh, we do have to look into some zoning issues for next week's kid and stroller parade."

"Well, sounds like you have a busy schedule." I smiled. "Danielle's already working on her entry. She has her dolls, I mean babies, outfit all picked out. Tonight we're attaching some more paper machete to her old stroller."

I rested my hand on the counter and he put his hand on top. My chest filled with warmth even if neither of us said anything or acknowledged it was even happening. "I'm sure she'll win top prize. I'll see you tomorrow, Roberta." He winked.

"Okay," I said simply, biting my lip. I knew my face flushed, but that didn't stop him from leaning over to kiss my cheek. Gabriel tilted his hat to me like he always did with a small glint in his eye.

I wanted to say something. Anything. But I didn't. I watched after him while I picked up a take-out menu and fanned myself. It was suddenly awfully hot in the diner for October.

"He is a looker, ain't he?" Harriet said over my shoulder and went "Tsk, tsk."

Silently I agreed. "Not sure what he'd want with me."

Harriet patted my shoulder. "That's for him to decide, don't you think? You could count yourself lucky. If I was forty years younger, you can bet I would."

She moved on and I smirked. I knew very well how she felt. Lord knew, she reminded me enough. Gabriel was Rick's friend, so how could I? Sport games, movie nights, it had been the three of us. So now what?

Now what?

The door chimed and hungry patrons began pouring in. "Time to get to work." I picked up my waitress pad, put on my cheerful smile, and hurried to greet our first customers of the day.

On the way over, the lights above the counter flickered and made an electrical zot-zot noise. I could even smell the warm, electrical current. It made me stop and think of another night when I had seen such a thing.

The night my mother died. Killed. At the hand of my father.

But the curtains along the back window were still. They weren't billowing in the breeze with malicious intent. Oh, the things a child will see in the dark.

"You okay, Rob?" Harriet asked, rubbing my arm.

I nodded nervously. Unable to shake that something was wrong. Something was coming. It was silly and superstitious, but I had this feeling before. I thought it was silly then too.

When I lost Rick.

The Rewind Series

# 15 Minutes

YA Time Travel Thriller with Romance

The future can be a dangerous place when you changed the past....

15 minutes is all the Rewind Agency gives a person when they travel to the past, but for Lara Crane it's enough for her to race through the city, find her mother, and stop her from being killed in a mugging that happened over ten years ago.

But the story she's been told all her life is a lie. When Lara takes a bullet meant for her mother, her future changes forever. A new house, new friends and a new boyfriend turns Lara's life upside down. She thinks if she can save her father from prison, reunite him with her mother, everything will be fine.

15 Minutes is an edgy high octane YA thriller where the people Lara trusts change in an instant. She is in a timeline she doesn't understand, and is about to make one fatal mistake as she faces an enemy so familiar, he's family.

Chapter One

I have fifteen minutes.

"Lara Crane?"

Standing in the sterile waiting room of the time travel agency known simply as Rewind, I turn towards the voice. A redhead technician with a tight ballerina bun offers me a handshake. I've met her before. Her name is Delilah.

I should be in second period lab class, but instead I cut. I have something more important to do than completing junior year chemistry.

"Nice to see you again." After a glance over my shoulder, I follow her through a tiny hallway and into a secure room. I crinkle paper brochures in one hand, and with the other repeatedly tuck my hair behind my ears.

Her lips perch together in a tight smile. "You too, Ms. Crane. One of my favorite return visitors."

I sit down in the overstuffed black recliner, and when she latches the door, the metallic boom makes my heart skip a beat.

This is it. Turning back is not an option.

The stark white walls, sparsely covered with posters, make me feel like a trapped rat. Time travel has rules, the posters warn, and I plan on breaking every one. A daughter will do anything for her mother.

I have one chance at this, and with my heightened blood pressure, it's clear my body knows it. Once you travel back to a specific time, it's catalogued as off limits. Frequent travel to the same moment, in the same space, causes a rut in space, like pacing across a worn floor. If I fail, if I can't do this, my mother will remain dead forever.

The technician is wearing all white, and her shoes squeak against the shiny silver tiles.

She straps the belt around my lap, and my knees bounce up from my bottled-up tension. The clustered nerves in my gut grow larger. I swallow to settle them, but bile rises in my throat.

Delilah sits at her computer a few feet in front of me, probably checking the records for my time travel history. This is my tenth trip, thanks to the frequent visitor discount card Delilah sold me on my second visit. I've been time travelling to plot my route and improve my sprinting time through the city.

She slides over to me on her desk chair. Her eyes search mine, and they glint with distrust. "We checked out the date and location," Delilah says. "It seems like a happy memory. How old were you?"

She's scoping me out. I try hard to keep eye contact. I've worked too hard on this to get found out now. It took every penny I had to pay for this final trip. "I was five. I sang in front of the mayor. My dad was there. It was a big deal to me then."

Delilah slips a standard white hospital-issue heart monitor on my finger and clamps it tightly, catching my skin. With a deft movement of her foot, the chair reclines like the one in the dentist's office, and I'm peering up at the glass ceiling.

She speaks again, seemingly bored now, as she goes through her pockets looking for something until she pulls out a pen.

"You'll have fifteen minutes and will have to watch from the hall."

I nod and try to keep from sweating, but my heart is beating so rapidly it's echoing in my ears.

Her eyes are steady on mine, and her lips pinch together. She recites as if from memory, "No interactions and don't try to meet or touch anyone along the way. You wouldn't be able to anyway."

Or so she thinks. My fingers grip the flyers. Hidden beneath them is a photo of my mom.

"We'll be monitoring you. Any sudden changes in your breathing or heartbeat and we'll yank you out."

Delilah injects my neck with the sleep serum. It pinches like a snapping beetle, and the electrodes surge on my temple. My head tingles. Electricity pulses through my skin, making my foot twitch and my finger clutch involuntarily.

My eyelids are heavy. They close, but the sound of banging forces them open again. I see Rick, my boyfriend, through the window in the door. He bangs the glass with his hand, and I grip the armrest as restraints clamp down on my forearms.

"Arrest him," she hisses into a wall intercom, and armed security guards force Rick's arms behind his back. Delilah turns to me and gives me a smile. It doesn't look friendly.

It's chilling.

"She's ready to go back."

"Lara!" he screams, and the longing, the begging in his voice breaks me. "Don't do this, Lara!"

The chair begins to spin, and the room swirls around me until I'm dizzy with the urge to vomit. The velocity forces my head back against the cushion, and my mouth falls open. I whisper a single word.

"Mom."

****

I open my eyes. I'm standing in the yellow halls of a cheerful school decorated with construction paper artwork. The hall waves in front of my vision as though I'm lost beneath the ocean, and my legs tremble. I slide my feet forward, so I can lean against a locker for support.

I have no memory of what I did before this. I rub my temples. I'm missing something, and my head throbs. I flip through the papers I notice in my hand. It's a pamphlet that says I have fifteen minutes to be in the past.

Time travel?

Flipping through the pages I see short-term memory loss is to be expected but will fade soon. I paid money to go back, but why into a school? Something about it is familiar, and I know the hall I'm standing in leads to a music room.

But I don't know how I know any of this. I just do. As if memories were uploaded into my brain.

A photo falls from my papers and lands face up.

Her face. Her eyes. It's like looking in the mirror.

I scoop the picture up and head down the hall. A piano chord strikes. The soft tone echoes toward me, and the digital watch on my wrist beeps. A rush of memories slam into my mind, knocking me off balance. I wobble on my feet as if the collision were physical. I retch, the vomit threatening to spill. Swallowing, it burns like racing lava. I check my watch.

I only have thirteen minutes left.

I don't bother to look through the doors to find five-year-old me. Instead, I race down the hall, feet gliding across the linoleum. My hood flaps behind me as my body crashes into the elementary school front doors. Blinding sunlight greets me, and I am flying down the hill. My arms pump, and I suck in deep breaths of air, like I learned in my time as a sprinter at Cambridge High.

Rounding the corner onto Mass Avenue, I see Tower Records off in the distance.

Beep.

I now have ten minutes to run eight blocks in time to save Mom. If I don't make it, if I fail, I won't get another shot.

My chest aches, and in my mind, I see Mom. I've seen her in pictures, but my memories of her are pretty much gone. I want to remember her tucking me into bed and cooking me dinners. Now I am alone and have microwaved bowls of macaroni and cheese. Maybe it wasn't Dad's fault. Maybe he did his best, but I want more.

I want a mom.

My legs burn, and my lungs beg me to stop, but I keep going. I push harder and edge my body on until I'm desperate to collapse. A woman steps out from a store. I take a hard right to avoid her, clipping my arm on a brick wall. I groan and pause to bend over with my hands braced on my legs. I take a gulping breath of pain that my lungs reject. The woman comes up behind me and puts her hand on my shoulder.

Shrugging her off, I sprint away.

Eight minutes.

I round the corner toward Tower Records with anxiety tight in my chest.

This is where it happens. This is where Mom's body will be found.

My run slows to a trot as I stop beside the giant music store. I peer up at the towering skyscraper as I round the back, down an alley. Quiet shadows loom around the dumpster. A breeze sweeps by and blows a trash bag open. I catch the stench of decomposing meat, churning my stomach. My head pounds. I groan and grab my temples. Behind me I hear a woman's voice.

"Are you okay?"

Her voice rings a bell only in my deepest dreams. My movements slow as I turn and stare into my mother's face. Her eyes are blue like mine, and her face is framed with curls. The stillness of the sight shocks me. I knew I would see her if I was successful, but I wasn't ready for how my heart would ache or how badly I'd want to hug her.

She has a book in one hand and a cell phone in another. The phone is blinking, suggesting she's been on a call and maybe whoever is on the other end might still be listening. But Mom doesn't seem to care; her eyes are fixed on me.

"I'm fine." Despite my dry mouth, my voice sounds normal, but I am anything but. "Only a headache."

Mom smiles, and her warmth spreads to me. "Well it's no wonder, being back here. Come out on the street where the air is fresh. We'll get you a bottle of water."

I follow her on autopilot and watch her retrieve a bottle of water from her brown leather messenger bag. Around us, pedestrians walk by. Any one of them could be her killer, but maybe by being here I've saved her. Maybe I stopped her from going too far into the alley.

I sip the water offered to me, and as she takes it back, Mom asks, "What did you say your name was?"

"Lara," I answer before I can stop. I squeeze my eyes shut. My heart skips a beat with regret.

"That's funny," she laughs. "That's my daughter's name." Her eyes aren't suspicious. Her face is only kind.

My wrist watch beeps. I'm down to two minutes.

Mom turns towards the music store, and I follow. I see a man in the alley out of the corner of my eye.

"Mom!"

Mouth agape, her head whips toward me. "What did you call me?"

There's no time to answer.

A gun goes off.

I throttle her back, and she crumbles to the pavement. I take her place and feel a pinch in my side. My hand covers it instantly, and my legs wobble like jelly. I crash to the pavement, and my knees crunch under the impact. I grimace with my hand over the wound.

For a moment, my eyes lock with the shooter. He has dark hair and brown eyes. His brow furrows, and his lip snarls. Whoever he is, in that brief moment I tremble in fear. Then he takes off running. Around me people scream and run for cover. The ones that don't are by my side. Someone calls for help.

My breath echoes in my ear. Mom is there, taking me by the shoulder. Her lips are moving, but I hear nothing. There are tears in her eyes and mine, too. I fall forward, my head cushioned by her lap. Unable to blink, I can only stare ahead at a red fire hydrant on the sidewalk. Everything grows dim, and my breath rumbles.

I swear I see a shadow leaping over my body, but when I turn my head, no one is there. I don't understand. There was no mugging, so why was I shot? Mom was supposed to be mugged.

Beep.

Time's up. Everything goes dark as when a curtain closes on a stage, but I don't think it's from time travel.

I think I'm dead.

Glistening Haven Series

# Glistening Haven

Book 1 in a Scifi Dystopian Universe

Susan Monroe doesn't ask for much: good grades from her children, a house with room for a pool, to be the best Tupperware party host in New Haven 56.

But inside her tranquil 1950s styled community, a monster lurks. A monster that lives inside Susan, and every one of her superficially perfect neighbors, held in check by the oppressive police state that rules over them.

Susan's happy life is torn apart when her teenage son goes missing the same night an explosion rips apart the community. Susan knows it's only a matter of time before the police start breaking down their doors.

Before the reconditioning begins and Susan's identity is lost, she must do one final thing.

Find her son.

A sexy dystopian novel, The Glistening Haven is set in the future where society's attempt for beauty and perfection nearly destroyed it. Murder, sex, duplicity and drama, join us in the world of New Haven 56.

Chapter One

May 14th, Monday Morning

The Monroe Home: 15 Candy Cane Lane

Susan Marie wasn't ready to face the world. Dreams lingered in her head while she lay cocooned under her thick comforter. She was aware of Jeff's warm body beside her as his calloused fingers found her supple hips and rocked her backwards.

A playful smile curled her lips. Her head rolled onto his pillow and his lips kissed her neck. She murmured as she tilted back so their open mouths could greet. Jeff tasted as salty as last night's dinner and her heart quickened as his lips massaged hers.

Hungrily, her teeth pulled on his skin and she felt his desire heighten against her hip. His arms tightened around her small frame and his hands cupped her breasts beneath her nightgown. Susan's skin tingled and a long breath expelled from her lungs. Jeff kissed the nape of her neck, softly laughing against her skin. "You're awake now, I bet." His hot breath tickled her earlobe until she could barely stand it.

Susan moaned, turning to catch a small glimpse at her sexy husband. They were no longer newlyweds but he could still make her feel like it sometimes. "In a dreamlike state, but I'm managing so far."

Outside of their cozy bedroom came the sound of heavy footsteps. Susan knew what was coming next and wanted to pull the covers over their heads. It was the voice of their teenage daughter, Marie. "Mom! Jake is hogging the television remote again!"

More footsteps charged after their room. "You know Happy Days is only on before school. I didn't want to miss my favorite episode." Jake was a year older than his sister, but they were often mistaken for twins.

"The both of you are going to be late for the bus, so please hightail it downstairs and eat your breakfast, the both of you," Jeff said sternly, waiting for the whine and clumping footsteps to follow. He laughed and smoothed his wife's hair back. They shared another kiss. "Welcome to the real world."

"That's for sure," Susan sighed. "Why was it we wanted to have two?"

"So Jake would have someone to be friends with." Jeff reminded her and they both chuckled. For a moment Susan laid against him, her head on his shoulder. He rubbed her arm and kissed her forehead. With great reluctance she pulled herself out of bed and dressed for another busy day in New Haven 56.

Susan had adjusted to life there pretty well over the last eighteen years. Besides, if it wasn't for the New Haven project, she never would have met Jeff. And most likely she would have ended up dead.

Susan was a striking woman with tight skin, long brown hair and almond shaped eyes. She dressed in a long blue pencil skirt and a white blouse, accenting her look with pearls and a pair of heels that matched her skirt. Her hair was spiraled into a French twist, and she put final coat of red lipstick against her pouty mouth. An expert time manager, her look was complete in less than twenty minutes.

She arrived in the kitchen on schedule. It was spacious and just like most of the kitchens on the block, but Susan liked how it faced the morning sun. She made it her own, thanks to her handmade flower decorations. She bustled among the framed photos of special memories and Christmas holidays while Jeff dressed to open Dusty's restaurant and pub.

Susan made the kids' lunches, stowed them in their steel lunchboxes, and lined them up on the counter. "Kids, your lunches are ready!" She poured herself a cup of coffee and placed the cereal bowls in the dishwasher.

Jeff was huddled over the New Haven Chronicle, reading the editorial section. Susan rubbed his shoulder while she peered at the headline. "Local Glistening Stirs up Trouble with Protests." As she read it, Susan's stomach was gripped with nerves and her coffee was no longer appealing. She placed it down on the yellow laid-tile island. "He's going to get us all in trouble."

Jeff folded the newspaper and threw a glance back. "Relax, babe. It's no different than it was last week and the week before. We'll keep our heads down and we'll be fine." He rubbed her arm and accepted the kiss she gave him. "Got any big plans for today?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. I might steam the rugs."

"They certainly could use it. Harvey keeps using them as his litter box."

Didn't Susan know it. "Kids!" She bellowed once more and this time was greeted with the rushing of feet. She inspected her children as they entered the kitchen. Both of them appeared to be well groomed. Marie had long brown hair tied back with a pink scarf that matched her long hemmed poodle skirt and shoes. Jake was a good-looking seventeen-year-old with rosy cheeks. Since he was captain of New Haven's football team, he was rarely seen without his football jersey. "Well," Susan said proudly, "don't you two clean up nice?"

"You'd rarely suspect them as ours." Jeff agreed with a sip of Susan's coffee.

"Stop teasing us," Marie said with a roll of her eyes. "We know Jake doesn't clean up well at all."

Susan tried not to giggle while Jake's cheeks flushed and his nose turned up like a pig's. "You're going to let her talk to me like that?"

"It was a joke." Marie folded her arms in front of her. "Tell him, Mom."

"It was a joke," Susan brushed off Jake's shoulders. "And you look handsome as ever." Her smile glowed and inside a well of pride sprung a leak.

Jake's expression softened. "Thanks, Mom."

"Now off to school." Susan headed to the counter as Marie picked up her lunch, but Jake stepped forward. He fiddled with his jacket and his face turned down while he chewed on his lip. "Mom." There was a tremor to his voice. "We're out of eggs and milk. I was wondering when you were going to get new rations."

Jeff cast him a stern look. "If there aren't eggs and milk, eat something else. You think it's easy running a house with four mouths to feed?"

Marie's nose turned up. "You always eat more than your share. It's not fair to the rest of us, you know."

"Stop it, kids. No fighting." Susan sighed. "I'm heading to the market today to pick up a few more rations, but it'll have to hold us until the end of the week. We've almost used up all of our monthly spending points."

"We could eat out." Jake suggested.

"That takes money and you know there isn't enough to go around. You like this house heated and with cable TV? You like those stylish clothes on your back?" Jeff stood and shoved his bar stool into the kitchen island.

The teenagers eyed it and the air in the room thickened. "He doesn't mean it, Daddy. Do you?" Marie turned toward her brother, her ponytail lashing at the back of her neck.

"No." Jake said quietly. His cheeks reddened. "I'm happy to eat whatever Mom can cook up."

Susan patted his cheek. "Good, boy. Better get off to school. The bus will be outside any moment." She kissed each of their cheeks and handed Jake his lunch. "No trading at the lunch table again, understand?" The front door latched and Susan pivoted, placing her hands on her hips.

"What?" Jeff asked, placing her drained coffee mug in the dishwasher. "He's insensitive and selfish."

"In other words," Susan said, grinning, "a teenager."

"Well, I don't have to like it." Jeff huffed. His shoulders relaxed when Susan kissed his cheek.

"He'll be our boy again once he's through this phase. He's a good kid, you know that."

"I know, I know. I guess I just remember being him, before I moved here. What a dope I was to both my parents." Jeff shook his head.

Susan rarely heard him talk about his time before New Haven, and she tried to pretend such times never existed. Her fingers twisted together and spun her wedding ring while her shoulders inched up her ears. "Speaking of your parents, we're going to meet them this Sunday for some bingo after church service. I'm making an upside down pineapple cake."

"Not more bingo." He sighed. "Can't we just serve the cake here?"

"I love bingo and you love me, so therefore..." Something on the counter caught Susan's attention; it was Marie's metal thermos. Eyes wide, Susan snatched it and charged out the front door. She sprinted down the street and over the residential hill. At the corner stood a group of students. The girls were dressed in proper skirts and high heels, while the boys wore pressed shirts and khaki pants. "Marie!" Susan called as the bus squealed beside them in a rolling stop.

Marie glanced up with surprise, clutching her lunchbox in one hand and her school books in another.

Her mother offered her the thermos. "Sweetheart, you forgot your liquefied organ juice!"

Marie grinned and kissed her mom's cheek. "Thanks, Mom! I don't know what I'd do without you!"

Susan strolled up the concrete walkway as Jeff headed to the car. They shared a parting embrace. "Have a good day at the restaurant, sweetheart."

"I'll be home for dinner tonight." Jeff kissed her chin, his fingers gliding across her cheek.

"I can't wait." Susan's eyes sparkled with mischief and he smacked her backside. Despite how red it made her cheeks, inside her soul soared. After a final wave, she headed inside to start the morning's duties.

Susan picked the cat off the counter. She sat him down on the floor and dangled a piece of yarn in front of his paws. A cute fluffy black cat, he immediately took delight in the game, patting at it with his wide paw, until the phone rang and Susan's attention was distracted.

She removed one earring and put the phone to her ear. Harvey circled around her, swatting at the hem of her skirt to get her attention. When that didn't work, he meowed a pitiful sound, as if being flogged by older and wiser kitties.

"Susan Marie here."

"Susan, hello! I have news. Are you listening?"

"I just said hello, didn't I?" Susan almost rolled her eyes, despite her disgust at such a childlike expression.

"I just needed to make sure. I have big news."

"Jonathan?" Susan asked. Jonathan was Megan's son and the same age as Marie. Secretly, though not exactly discreetly, the two women had been hoping their children would court each other so they might marry, have children, and link their families together forever.

"No, no," Megan's tone was impatient. "Two blocks away from you. A new family just moved in."

"Brand new?" Susan twirled the phone cord around her finger and held her breath.

"Brand new. Not from any of the New Havens. We can tell from their tags. You must head over there and see what you can find out. They've just begun to unload their truck!"

"I will, I will! Are they nice? What are they like?" She knew she was prattling, but was too excited to care.

"Oh, they seem nice. Husband, pretty wife, and two small children. Remember when we were young and used to bring our kids to the park? That young."

"And they've been living on the outside all this time?" Susan asked. She couldn't imagine living on the outside with small children, always looking over her back to make sure the New Haven police hadn't caught their scent. How could anyone eat or sleep under those conditions?

"Isn't it delish? You have to find out more. See what it's been like for them. We have got to know. Lawrence Stark will kill for this kind of information, especially one so close to you, dear."

"Megan," Susan hissed, holding the receiver close to her mouth. She spun as if to hide her conversation from an unseen watcher. "Don't tell me that you've been talking to Lawrence Stark?"

"Well..."

"Do not well me, young lady! You know very well that all those uprisings are his fault. I saw talk of his protests today in the paper. You're going to get yourself in hot water if you keep this up. Promise me you'll keep your distance."

Megan sighed, "Susan—."

"Promise me," she insisted with a stomp of her foot.

"Fine, fine, I promise, but only after you go and greet the family. We can meet at Pete's Soda Jerk this afternoon."

Susan glanced at her watch. "What time? Remember, I have to have dinner on the table by six."

"Three p.m. Let's synchronize our watches."

****

Susan baked half a dozen blueberry and coffee cake muffins. Each one was topped with crusted sugar and cinnamon crumble. Wafts from the oven carried the sweet smell through the house and despite her diet plans, she found herself munching on crumbs.

She crafted a perfect welcome basket that sat on a blue and white plaid napkin with muffins. Inside she tucked a few pamphlets she made up years ago that explained the rationing system and a hand drawn map of New Haven 56. In the back she tucked the drive-in schedule of movies for the month and a coupon book to her husband's restaurant.

She wrapped the handle in a blue bow and set off in her sedan. While Megan hadn't given her address, it wasn't hard to find. Other residents loitering a few blocks away; the crowd was huddled together and talked out of their corner of their mouths, buzzing with excitement.

The house was a two story white house, but from the size of it Susan could tell it was probably quaint inside. In the small driveway was a van and three movers dressed in brown uniforms bustled with card board boxes; all of the contents part of the starting package provided by New Haven 56.

Susan parked alongside the curb and after a check on her hair was out with basket in hand. The lawn was still long, but she knew of a wonderful landscape service that could help, and there were dead stems in a pot that once had been beautiful flowers. This place had a lot of work to be done. Susan wondered for a moment whom lived here before and then she remembered.

She shuddered.

With a deep breath she rang the doorbell and waited with a smile for it to be answered.

A woman answered, dressed in a simple checkered dress. Her eyes were a pale blue and hidden behind a pair of horn rimmed glasses. "Yes?" She whispered and Susan could see her eyes were glassy, her cheeks were still flushed, and there was a slight quiver in her hands.

She offered her new neighbor a grand smile. "Susan Monroe and I've come to welcome you to the neighborhood. I hope you like muffins." Susan held the basket out.

"Diane." Her eyes studied the basket. "That's...very kind of you." Diane took the basket, studying the content.

Susan clasped her hands in front of her. "Well, I know how stressful a move to a new city can be on you and especially the children. You'll have to make sure they're okay with the process, won't you?"

Diane nodded, tears glistening in her eyes.

"New job? Is that why you moved here?" Susan's voice edged her on.

Startled, Diane blinked her eyes. "Moved here? Moved here? Don't you know? Don't you know what this place is?"

Susan's smile stretched like an elastic band and her heartbeat quickened. "Of course I do. It's a great community. We have friends, families, jobs. Every weekend there's a sock hop downtown. Our children can grow, thrive. So now you go on and tell me, why did you move here?"

Diane swallowed, glancing down. "So my children could grow up safe."

Susan squeezed the woman's wrist. She wore the same bracelet that Susan wore, that they all wore. "Why don't you invite me inside and I can start to show you the ropes, okay? I'll explain a few things to you. Trust me, there's a lot of misinformation out there."

"I could put on some water for tea." Diane said and pattered inside, leaving Susan to step in and close the door behind her.

Susan adjusted her skirt and heard the sound of playing coming from the living room. Peeking her head around the corner, she saw the sofa and furnishings were already in place with cardboard boxes stacked against the wall. The two children played on the beige rug were boys and probably only ages four and five. Cute children, Susan thought. Each of them had thick blond hair with bracelets on their wrists and around their necks Susan saw red marks.

She gulped down a quick breath of air. How horrid the process was, just horrid.

Susan clicked down the hall and found the kitchen. Diane sat at the table beside a window that overlooked a small cramped yard. If it was big enough for a barbecue grill, Susan would have been surprised. The husband and wife were quiet, holding each other's hands, while their eyes were somewhere else. Susan knew what it was like; she knew exactly what they were going through.

She sat down beside them and outreached her hand on top of theirs. "It'll be all right." Susan said softly. "You'll get through this fine. In a few weeks, you'll begin to feel better, fit in."

The husband glanced at Susan for the first time. His eyes were a deep brown and held so much sadness, she felt it. "We were living in Ohio. The kids just started school. We weren't hurting anyone."

Susan knew. She understood. "This is the way things are. It can be a good life if you accept it."

"And if you don't?" He asked quietly, angrily.

"You'll go away." She admitted. "And those children, those beautiful children will grow up without a father. If they grow up at all."

He squeezed his eyes shut, his eyes trained on the wood table.

"Will the tea be ready soon?"

Diane nodded. "It should be in a minute."

"Good," Susan patted her knee with a big smile, "we'll sit over muffins and you can tell me about the new jobs you've gotten. And I'll tell you all about my big Tupperware party next week. Wouldn't it be nice to get out and meet some of your neighbors?"

Susan sat outside at Jack's Soda Jerk with two malt shakes. It was nearly three in the afternoon. Her friend was nothing but punctual so Susan expected her to show up in a moment's time. As she waited, she primped her hair and took a sip of her beverage. Slowly, she drank it as the monthly money Jeff gave her to spend on frivolous things, was nearly depleted. At least in a few days it would be a new month and she could splurge again. Susan thought a nice tube of lipstick might be nice or maybe new pantyhose.

The air was soft on her skin and the sun was shining brightly. Many people were out that day and Susan smiled at a few she knew. Across the street at the park a few boys flew kites and some older boys, busied with hula hoops. Susan remembered being young and when she could spin her hips like that. She loved life, all stages of it, and New Haven 56 was a great place to life. Maybe how she got there wasn't so great, but after so many years, Susan was grateful for the chance to be normal, to get married, and have wonderful children.

Glancing up past her table's umbrella Susan could see the two blues of the day's sky. One was a natural soft blue with gentle clouds drifting past. Below that a darker, ominous blue dome pulsated in static intervals keeping New Haven safe in its bubble. Even when Susan could manage to forget what she was that damn bubble always reminded her. She sighed at the thought and heard footsteps approaching. They were the quick steps of someone in woman's pumps.

Megan was a tall and scrawny woman with long red hair. Today it was pushed back with a white headband and her makeup choices were a dramatic choice for doing errands. She slid into her seat, the iron chair grating against the sidewalk. "So, so, tell me everything!" Megan sipped her drink.

"It's good to see you too, sweetheart." Susan smirked.

Megan sighed. "All right, all right, hello, hello. Now tell me." She waved her fingers in the air as if the push off a mysterious uninvited guest.

"You promise you're not going to tell Lawrence Stark?"

"I...give you my word." Megan held up her hand. "Girl scouts honor, darling."

"And I can trust you this time?" Susan pursed her lips and her fingernails twitted against the glass counter top.

"What is this time nonsense? When have I ever led you astray?"

"How about that PTA meeting last year? You told me everyone was going to be critiquing Mr. Banks."or

Megan put a hand to her mouth and giggled. "Well, you were spot on with everything you said."

Susan went 'hmpf' and crossed her arms. She feigned being angry by pushing her lips together, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"I promise." Megan patted her hand. "Just tell me, what are they like?"

"Sad and afraid." Susan's face darkened as she thought about the Franklins and their small children. "He is going to work in the grocery market and she is going to be working mother's hours at the Templeton Pharmacy."

"Most do start out there." Megan rolled the straw through her fingers absently. "And they were...nice?"

Susan nodded. "I invited them to my party next week."

Megan grinned. "Wonderful! I love new people to interrogate, I mean, be friends with."

"Their children are small and I don't think they are old enough to know the significance of this place, at least not yet. But they were well behaved. They said please and thank you when I gave them a muffin."

"Oh, that's nice. So many children are not brought up properly these days at all, are they?"

"Certainly not. It used to be the norm, when our two were small." Susan sighed. "Anyway, you were right. They were trapped by the three and brought here. The children have the marks on them."

Megan sighed. "Oh, poor things. Poor poor things."

Susan cleared her throat. "And they brought news of the outside, but you must promise, promise not to tell!"

Megan nodded several times, her eyes going wide with curiosity. "I do, I do. I won't even tell my George!"

"Your dog doesn't exactly have loose lips, Megan."

"No, but I do tell him most everything and who knows what he barks to the neighbors."

Susan giggled. "They were living in Ohio in a small suburb of Cincinnati."

"Like that WKRP show? Oh, nice! What was it like? Were all the buildings destroyed? Are they living in ruins?"

Susan's eyes darkened. "No," she said quietly. "Life is good. I guess economically things are tough. More people live in apartment buildings than homes."

Megan scrunched up her nose. "Apartment buildings?"

Susan nodded. "I know. Can you imagine it?"

"But they had freedom." Megan pushed on with resolve in her voice. She pointed her finger at Susan. "They could go anywhere they wanted."

She leaned in and whispered, her eyes checking for anyone who might overhear. "Looking over their shoulder, pretending to be something they're not the entire time. That's no way to live."

"And that's not what we're doing?" Megan posture suddenly straightened like she had grown several inches and became rigid.

"Where is this coming from? We live happy content lives."

"In a bubble."

Defiance shone through her face. "I like our bubble. New Haven is the perfect place to live and raise a family." Susan's face flushed. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp of her purse and searched its content for a compact mirror.

"Look at you, Marie. You can't even talk about it without getting upset."

Susan was flustered and the words left her mouth with a hefty dose of spit. "Well, you're the one who brought it up. It's not like, not like you agree with Lawrence Sparks is it? Tell me you haven't joined his cause."

"It's not just his cause," Megan whispered, leaning across the table. "It's the cause of all of us. Most people just refuse to believe we're anything but human."

Susan squeaked and dropped her mirror, a hand covered her mouth. "I am too. I am too! I bake, I clean, I—I take care of the children. What's more normal than that?"

Megan's eyes narrowed. "And what's wrong with being something more? Maybe they're the ones that should be sequestered and we should be running the show!"

Megan's voice reached a shrill squeak and other people were beginning to take notice. They were staring at their table and Susan was painfully aware that the other tables were no longer talking, that across the street children had stopped playing with their toys.

The spotlight was very much on them and Susan was fraught with nerves. She tried to force a laugh, sipping her float but she couldn't swallow, it wouldn't go down. "You're creating a spectacle of us. I think you better just tone it down."

"Tone it down? Isn't that what we've been doing for thirty years? You had it good. Your parents were brought here with you, but mine were killed upon capture and for what? Because they didn't want to be imprisoned here, in this perfect community? And what happened to those officers that did it? Nothing. All they had to do I bet was file a report!"

Susan opened her mouth to speak, but was frozen in silence as three armed police officers surrounded their table. She hadn't seen them coming, had barely heard any footsteps at all, but each of them held an electric cattle prod in their hand. From the blue zapping tip, it was obvious they were charged. Their uniforms were black and on their head they wore hats with visors. They looked so normal, so mainstream, but Susan knew different. Horrified, she wanted to plead for her innocence, she hadn't done anything wrong, please just let her go home to be with her family.

But, their cold calculated eyes weren't on her. They were on Megan. One of them grabbed her roughly by the arm. "You'll need to come with us, Ms. Myers."

How was it they just knew her name? Susan wondered and realized they probably could read it off their tracking bracelets.

"I haven't done anything wrong." Megan insisted, tugging on her arm, but the large man with the scary dead eyes only strengthened his grip. "Ow," she whined, "you're hurting me. Stop it."

"Has she been upsetting you Mrs. Monroe?" One of the other officers asked her softly. "You look a bit pale, even for one of you."

Susan shook her head, but unable to speak as tears formed in the corner of her eyes. She wanted to say something, but her heart was pounding so fast she felt almost faint. After a moment she cleared her throat. "We were just having floats and...you know how woman get at their time of the month."

Megan's eyes narrowed. In a sharp quick breath she spoke, "Susan!"

Susan gulped back her fear, her betrayal and glanced down at her feet.

"We'll take care of her." The officer forced Megan to her feet and her chair tumbled backwards. Everyone watched as he grabbed both of her arms and forced them behind her back. Megan struggled as three officers tightened a circle around her.

"Let me go! What happened to the rights of American citizens! I have freedom of speech!"

"You have no rights, you damn glistening." The officer reached for the handle of his electric rod.

Susan whipped her head toward the window of the sofa jerk, but could hear her friends scream. To keep her from sobbing, she bit her lip. The reflection in the glass plaid out the scene; Megan was electrocuted in the back and her skin morphed from human peach to a glowing blue. Large wings flapped beneath her clothes. The charge of the weapon flowed through her limbs, lighting up her inhuman skeleton. Back arched and fingers splayed, her flailing body assaulted the ground below.

Megan's form changed and she laid on the pavement with a stoned look on her face. Her expression was still and her eyes sunken with fatigue. It took two officers to force her to walk toward the paddy wagon and another to shove her into the back.

Susan couldn't do anything. She was too afraid to speak, move, or even think how much she would miss her friend. Around her, everyone went back to what they were doing; like a movie interrupted it now resumed its regular programming. Barely an eye blinked out of place, but for Susan it wasn't so easy.

She steeled her thoughts, even as her fingers trembled so bad her purse fell to the ground. She wondered if the police could know where they were at all times what was to keep them from reading their minds too?

# Glistening Rebellion

# Book 2 in the Glistening Haven Series

In Glistening Haven, Jenna Morgan fought to uncover a government conspiracy. In Glistening Rebellion, she fights for her life.

New Haven 57 is opening for business—bigger landscape, nicer homes, and tougher reconditioning techniques that will make resistant glistenings docile.

A caravan of glistenings from overcrowded concentration camps are enroot to their new home. For Jenna Morgan it's the final job before she retires forever to a happy low key life. When the escape glistenings from New Haven 56 attack, a simple transportation job turns into life or death.

Jenna does the unspeakable and is pulled back into a fight she wants no part of. With an assassin on her tail, her loyalties are questioned. She will need to decide once and for all, which side she's on as she teeters on the brink of full out war.

Chapter One

Nuefeld Family Wheat Farm

Rural Saskatchewan Territory of the Canadian State

Winter was approaching.

Jake spooned the last bit of roast turkey and gravy into his mouth. Then he picked up his napkin. "Thank you again, Ms. Nuefeld, for the great supper."

It was a cramped farmhouse kitchen with plaques and wooden spoons lining the walls. The small round table was covered in food worthy of a feast. Sage hung in the air while the oven brought over wafts of cinnamon and nutmeg. There was a time when Jake had eaten with the Nuefelds every night, but now it was a rare treat. They were nice people and Jake liked them, even if he should keep his distance. Nice people often ended up hurt when they befriended him, but he was more careful now.

Jackie Nuefeld gathered up some plates to bring to the counter. "We should be thanking you. You drive a combine like it's second nature. With George suddenly missing, there was no one around to help. Thank you for stepping in, Nick."

Jake hid a scowl behind his napkin. He'd never get used to being someone else, even if it was for the best. From behind the napkin he could see Liz's eyes on him. She was close to his age and unassuming with a splattering of freckles across her nose. Her hair was a soft auburn that sometimes Jake thought about touching. He could imagine how soft her locks would be through his fingers.

Her face often danced with a gentle smile when their eyes locked, but he had to pretend not to notice. All through dinner she looked at him, but rarely said a word. It was a good thing, because sometimes when she did speak, her voice made his heart skip a beat.

Mark, a middle aged man who appeared more weathered than his age, ran his tongue over his teeth and huffed. "Missing? You make it sound like the NH had nothing to do with it."

A shiver ran down Jake's spine. Up here he was just another farmer trying to make his way and avoiding the mandatory army enlistment. Farmers were pardoned because of how desperate the US was for food.

But that didn't mean they were free. Far from it.

"We have no proof." Jackie said but she was monotone. Listless. She balanced a few dishes in her hand.

"Proof is something you don't bring to the NH even if you have it. We'll make due. Like we always do. And pay our taxes. God willing, let's hope we'll make it through another winter."

His face was lined with worry and Jake felt for him. He was a glistening. Maybe he hadn't been there when the glistening swarms ascended on the country and ravaged it like a plague of locusts. But he was a glistening. It was his blood, his legacy. And something he hadn't been taught in New Haven 56. Now that he knew...

"We have food, Papa." Liz said.

Mark crumbled up his napkin. "For now. If the frost comes early..." The worry lines on his face increased and so did Jake's guilt.

"You'll make it through just fine." Jake nodded his head at the family. "And if you come up short, give me a call. I'll make sure we all get through."

Jackie glanced at her daughter who was close to Jake's age. "No sense worrying on the future. Help with the dishes, won't you, Liz?" The girl snapped her head toward her mother.

"Sure...Mom." Her smile was distracted and a slow blush spread across her cheeks.

Mark clasped his shoulder. "Since we've met Nick he's always been good to us, eh?"

"He's good people." Jackie agreed with a twinkle in her eye. "Stay for some apple pie? I would hate to see it go to waste."

Mark chortled. "Hon, it won't be going to waste under my watch!"

Jake nodded his thanks. "I would love to, but maybe some other time. I really need to get back to the farm. It'll be dark soon and I need to check on a few things. Next time I promise to help with the dishes, Mrs. Nuefeld."

"Come now," Liz said as she gathered up his dishes, "you know Ma never takes no for an answer."

The older woman laughed. "Oh heavens! What we ever did to get blessed with such a fine friend I'll never know."

Jake smiled his thanks as pie was placed on the table. He didn't want to overstay his welcome, but he didn't want to be rude either. Picking up his fork, he watched Mark cut his slice in half.

"These could be our last fresh pies of the season." Mark said. "With winter coming, who knows how much fresh fruit we can keep for ourselves from the food storage."

Jackie huffed as she finished clearing the table. Liz put a few mugs down along with the creamer. "Well," Jackie said, "If the US government has their way, we'll starve while their states live off our surpluses."

"But they're good to us, aren't they?" Liz asked. "I mean they pay us."

Mark snorted with a mouth full of pie. "Well, not enough. And the taxes...the taxes we are forced to pay on our own crops so they can take it and sell it back to us? It's outrageous. Outrageous! Every year the NH squeezes us for more food, more money."

"But," Liz's face was twisted with confusion, "they are the ones that keep us from the glistenings. Someone has to help pay to keep them in those bubbles."

Jake swallowed and pretended he wasn't uncomfortable, like a hairy bug climbing up his leg.

"And we get what for paying all our taxes?" Mark asked. "We don't even get a police force. Hell, if it wasn't for volunteers we'd have no private services at all."

Jackie smirked as she stirred cream into her coffee. "Yes, with all that crime we have."

"That ain't the point, Jackie, and you know it." Mark sighed. "Maybe I'm just a grumpy old man. What do you think, Nick?"

His eyes widened and he coughed into his fist. "Well, maybe, Mr. Nuefeld, but it's not wrong to want more than what we're getting." Truer words had never been spoken.

Mark nodded in agreement. "And those new guys they have working at the grain elevators? Slimy. I don't trust them. But since when can we trust the NH? They do what they want and oversee everything." He shook his head. "With everything to worry about, I'm lucky to get a wink of sleep a night."

Jake's face crumbled. The Nuefields were good people and he hated to see them so distraught, facing such hardship. "I'm sure one day it'll get sorted out better. Once there's more food to go around for everyone. I'm sure everyone appreciates the service Saskatchewan provides."

"That's why I like you. You're always optimistic and see the best in people." Liz's eyes flashed a warm look with kindness and understanding.

Jake basked in it and realized what he was doing. He stood up. "I really need to be going. Thanks again, for everything."

He shook hands with Mark and nodded farewells to Jackie. Liz stood up and rushed after him. "Mind if I walk you out, Nick?"

Jake never minded and that was part of the problem. "I'd be honored."

She smiled and bit her lip, looking so sweet and innocent. Jake knew he had to keep his distance, but when he was with her, his heart soared in a way it hadn't since he lost Wendy. He tried not to think about her most days, but when Liz hooked her arm through his on the porch, Jake couldn't help himself.

The way Wendy smiled at him those first days in school before he even realized what being in love meant. How soft her lips were the first time he kissed her.

And how much pain she was in the night they fled for their lives. The night their son would come into the world.

And Wendy would lose hers.

He never said good-bye. Wendy didn't get to live the life she was meant to. Because of him.

So much death and destruction, and all because of him. Because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Liz walked him down the porch to his green pickup truck. Jake came by it used and it had seen better days, but it was reliable. It was tough enough to go back and forth on the old gravel roads home to his farm. "The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?"

Her words rang true. Only half the sun was peeking over the horizon and its orange blaze created streaks almost like those left by an orange crayon against the night's purple hued sky. "Gorgeous is more like it." Like the ones he shared with Wendy at the old cabin before they ran, before she became so pregnant all he did was worry about her.

He was a damn glistening and his son was just like him. But Jake would make sure no one would ever harm the baby. He didn't care what it meant for him, anyone, but Wendy's death wouldn't be in vain. His son wasn't just some damn test tube.

So maybe he wasn't the one singing it to sleep. Maybe he would never be dad. But if his dad, Jeff Monroe, taught him anything it was that you would move heaven and earth for family. No sacrifice was too great. Jake didn't know much about Jenna Morgan. But he knew she was loyal to Wendy's family and that meant she would die to protect Travis and his secret. Jake didn't care if she was New Haven once. All that mattered was that she loved his boy. And she did. Time after time, Jake saw it in her eyes, even if they never spoke. Even if Jenna never knew he was there.

"You're awfully quiet tonight. You okay, Nick?" Liz asked and rested her hand on his arm.

It tingled to be touched by her and that was bad. Bad indeed.

Jake forced a smile. "Of course I'm fine, Liz. Just tired. Long day. But you're right, the sunset is beautiful." It wasn't the only thing. The way the sunlight caught Liz's gentle wavy hair, it brought out the amber highlights. When she tucked it behind her ears, Jake could make out her strong, sexy jaw. Liz might have worn a lot of long, loose dresses, but she was beautiful. Maybe if he wasn't a glistening he could be happy with her. Maybe he could even keep her safe, but it wasn't right. Wendy had been dead barely a year.

Jake wasn't ready to let her memory go.

"Some of us are going to meet in town tomorrow. Catch an old movie. Thought it might be fun. Thought you might want to come?" Liz tugged on her finger and her eyes were filled with hope.

He suppressed a sigh. To Liz, to everyone, he was nothing but a recently graduated high school kid. So how could he tell them he had way more important things to worry about than hanging out and watching movies? A year ago he would have wanted nothing more, but now...some days Jake wished nothing had changed and he was still inside New Haven 56, where things were safe. But that was just the thing. Nothing in there was safe.

At least on the outside they had no illusions. Had nothing to hide behind.

"I'll see. Might have to help my dad." He gave her a killer smile. "But thanks for thinking of me."

"All right. Well, text me when you know. Bye, Nick." Liz took a step forward and gazed into his eyes. It was a beautiful face, but Jake couldn't give in. He had nothing to offer and she had a world in front of her that he couldn't touch.

"Thanks for walking me out." He touched the rim of his hat in a parting good-bye.

Her mouth opened in disappointment and her eyes glinted.

He pretended not to notice. The gravel crunched and the hairs on the back of Jake's neck stood up; they weren't alone.

Gazing out into the darkness, Jake's glistening vision allowed him to see one of the farm hands walking by with an old gardening hoe in his hand. His name was Charlie and when he was around, the air turned cooler. With great suspicion, Charlie's eyes swept through Jake. But he was too far away to actually make eye contact with Jake.

So why did he always feel the need to protect Liz when he was around?

Liz followed his gaze, her lips twisting to the side. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Jake's words were flat and he barely believed them himself. "Just thought I heard something. Go inside, okay? Where it's safe."

"I'm pretty sure it's safe out here. Who would come out this far?"

Jake gave her a small smile. "You're probably right. Good evening, Liz."

"Bye, Nick." Her words trailed off and expectations hung between them. Expectations that Jake couldn't meet.

When he slid into the car, Liz walked back up the steps, giving the truck enough room to do a one-eighty. Dust kicked up and when he hit the road, pebbles popped up, clinking against the underside of the truck's carriage.

It would take forty minutes to drive back to his farm. In his glistening form he could fly it in ten. But you couldn't go all dragon when you were wanted dead or alive.

For now he would have to settle for the truck.

Speed limitations aside, being a human wasn't half bad. Most of the time.

# The Dream Slayer Series

# The Dream Slayer: Book 1

YA Paranormal Adventure: A homage to Buffy the Vampire Slayer

When your dreams come true, sometimes you get more than you bargained for...

In the young adult teen series Dream Slayer, Natalie Johnson has always dreamed she's someone else; calm, beautiful, in control. A chosen warrior with a maniacal arch nemesis and a dreamy boyfriend, the type that can make your knees melt and your heart quiver.

Real life is much different. She's tormented by a bully and endures the sharp tongue of her father, but finds solace in her dreams.

When her bully ends up dead, de ja vu from a dream hits her hard as everything around her begins to fall apart. Whatever killed Sarah in her dreams is now in reality, hunting her from the shadows. And it wants her dead.

Somehow as the lines between reality and nightmare blur, Natalie must discover hidden strength to pull her friends and family back from the brink of madness.

Chapter One

Her foot pumped the brake pedal, but still the bus would not be slowed. It would not be stopped. They were on a crash course with death and destruction.

Natalie's least favorite D words.

The tires were long blown out on the yellow school bus. Its rims mulched a groove into the pavement and vibrated against the brake pads. Out of control, it veered left and accelerated until it rode up on its right-side wheels, the left wheels leaving the ground.

The bus driver was slumped on the floor, and in his place behind the steering wheel, Natalie gritted her teeth. The teenage girl shouted, "Hang on!" Her knuckles gripped the steering wheel, turning the speeding bus wildly to the right.

Her classmates screamed and jostled in their seats. Apparently, they didn't appreciate her high-speed tour through the mountains of Meadow's Creek.

Why don't these buses have seat belts anyway? Natalie wondered to herself. There was no time to consider the answer. Just as she rounded the corner, a pedestrian stepped out into the middle of the street.

Natalie swerved to avoid hitting him and narrowly missed the oncoming traffic. "This is the type of stress that causes wrinkles," she muttered. Her pulse raced and the palms of her hands were sweaty. The bus jolted as it clipped the sidewalk, nearly ramming into a wooden bench.

When she'd left her house with café mocha in hand that morning, the last thing on Natalie's mind was being cast in the "Speed" reboot. She let out a slow breath, beads of sweat clinging to her forehead, and kicked her boot to the brake. Except for a lot of squealing, nothing happened; the bus continued at top speed—right toward the high school.

Natalie could use a day off from homeroom and bad cafeteria food, but not like this.

She glanced down at the unconscious bus driver. "I really wish you were doing this." With a rushed breath, Natalie throttled into neutral and applied the emergency brake.

Metal squealed against metal, and the steering wheel vibrated in her hands. The vibration traveled up her arms and down her spine like she was at the loudest rock concert in history. When she cranked to the left, the gears gave a high-pitched whine and smoke began to waft through the heat vents. The metal fought against her with everything it had, and Natalie just prayed she'd be strong enough.

The metal grinding itself into mulch was loud, but the students' screams were louder. Fearing for their lives, their voices reached a new fevered pitch of wails and sobs. The bus spun, spiraling toward Meadow Creek High.

Natalie had spent half her high school career training for situations like these, but her stomach still churned, spinning out of control with vertigo. She could barely make sense of her surroundings but heard the bristle of tree branches and felt their twigs scrapping against her cheek. She swatted at them and held her arms up defensively as the bus lurched forward.

The front bumper caught on a fire hydrant and yanked the bus to an abrupt halt just inches from the school wall. The bus rocked onto two wheels before slamming down onto its final resting place, moaning like a dying t-rex.

The school was close enough to touch. Outside smelled like freshly cut lawn, but it was just the bus using its rims to till the earth. Natalie Johnson's landscaping bus, at your service. She lowered her shaking arms from her face and took a deep breath, removing the keys from the ignition for some reason.

Her eyes trained on the fire hydrant. Everyone knew you weren't supposed to park next to one of those, especially in a loading zone. I sure hope I'm not getting a ticket for this. As if my day isn't going bad enough.

"Everybody okay?" Natalie's voice was unsteady. The question sounded false to her; of course no one was okay.

Her classmates since elementary school remained seated. Some were green, others held their hands to their faces like they might puke, while a few clung to each other in terror. Marcy, a girl from homeroom, sobbed into her bundle of magazines repeating, "I'm not ready to die."

Natalie stood on jelly legs and faced the group. "Everyone, we'll be okay—"

Thump. Thump. She was interrupted by a noise from above.

She gazed up and saw the roof vibrate from the weight of something heavy above her head. He was still on the roof. Natalie charged off the bus before she even realized she was moving. Her strides were unsteady, like a toddler taking its first steps, but by the time her feet met the grass, she was sprinting after a man wearing a fedora.

"Arrivederci, my darling Slayer!"

"Morach!" Natalie charged across the open field. Her lungs expanded, filling with much-needed air, and gave her the boost she needed to charge behind the school in search of the maniacal fiend. They said all heroes needed an arch nemesis, and he was hers. She hadn't asked to be the chosen one; sometimes it made life difficult, but never boring.

Morach the Great was in her sights now. He disappeared behind some trees, and Natalie charged ahead, the low branches scratched at her cheek. Her hands swept them away while hidden inside the bush, a low growl warned her off. Natalie backed up with caution, her hand reaching into the lining of her fashionable jacket, searching for her weapon.

The demon flew out from behind the trees in a menacing airborne attack that was sure to draw attention. It wasn't Morach, but one of his many pets, released to slow her down so he could make his escape.

Natalie dodged left and kicked the beast in the stomach just as it was about to land on her. It fell onto its back inside the leafy evergreens.

"Usually, I'd show off my witty prowess to you, but since it's almost class time, I'm gonna kill you and get it over with. And contrary to popular belief, pointy sticks can kill just about anything—not just vampires."

She lunged, piercing through the beast's shirt and flesh with her wooden stake. It slid in like a knife into warm butter. With a final push and a guttural grunt, Natalie snapped the demon's sternum. She yanked the stake free, its tip dripping with black liquid, and backed away to avoid the spray of blood.

The fact that demons liquefied when you killed them made cleanup easier, but if you got their blood in your cashmere, it was never coming out. Plus, the stench left Natalie wishing she couldn't smell at all.

The demon howled, grabbing at its wound. Its feet liquefied into a puddle, but it didn't stop there. The effect rippled up its body until it was nothing but a pile of mucus jelly. It gave a giant squirt into the air before settling into the grass.

Footsteps came from behind. Natalie pivoted and greeted who she expected, Mark Glovin, with a bunch of books in the crook of his arm. He wasn't just her mentor and trainer; he was also her Social Studies teacher.

"Hey there, kid. I didn't realize you had a bus pass." He ripped off a pink slip and handed it to her as they walked toward the school.

"Detention? Seriously? This is some sort of joke, right? You know what I just did."

"Bah!" Mark licked his lips in that way he did before he listed all her mistakes. Natalie hated his lists. "Let's see." He pointed straight ahead. "Destroyed a lawn, a windshield, and those kids are going to need therapy until they're grey and senile. If they live that long. With your generation, it's certainly not guaranteed."

A scream from a teen being helped off the bus diverted her gaze. "I am walking to school from now on. I am walking!"

Natalie cringed. "All in a day's work, right?"

Mark laughed and Natalie knew she was off the hook. "You going to tell me what happened?"

"Only if you make a formal request in writing."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Not that again."

"I saw the bus while making a sweep of the city. It was going mega fast."

"Mega?" Mark snorted. "I'm glad I'm not your English teacher."

"Anyway, turns out guess who hijacked it? So I made a front door through the windshield. Seemed like a good idea at the time. I do have a driver's permit. And in my defense, fire hydrants make great buffers."

Mark picked a piece of glass out of her hair while he gave a deep laugh. "And Damien? What happened to him?"

Natalie's blue eyes fogged over. "Don't know. What else is new, right?" Damien was her sometimes-kinda-would-be-boyfriend. "If he owned a car, it would make chasing vampires easier. I think someone needs to clue Damien in that it's no longer 1912."

"He's just worried about his carbon footprint," Mark stated.

"And I'm worried my academic life is going to cut into my social life, but I still go to school."

"Why do you think Morach wanted a bus full of kids?"

She stepped back, sizing Mark up. "What's with the non-linear line of questioning today?"

"What do you expect when danger strikes before I've had my first pot of coffee?"

"Sorry, next time I'll tell Morach to reschedule. Whatever he wants, we can be sure it won't involve bunnies or kittens. Well, except that one time when it did. I'm still having nightmares." Natalie shuddered at the thought.

"He said he was taking us for a ride," put in Josh Duncan, a freshman Natalie recognized from the bus. She knew he was a freshman by using her super deductive reasoning skills—he had a backpack. She remembered when she still used a backpack; that was before things got all 'You have a destiny to fulfill.' Now she had a locker and a chest full of pointy weapons.

"Did he say where?"

Josh shook his head but changed his mind and nodded. "It made no sense."

Natalie crossed her arms. "Try us."

"Okay." Josh shrugged. "He said we were going up to Killington. That something was keeping us trapped here, like a force field. He was going to use the bus to ram it. Crazy, right?"

Mark looked just as lost as she felt and mumbled, "That would never work unless he attached some steel beams to the front."

"He was..." Josh searched for the right words, "...kinda green. And his nose was really pointy. He had some sort of skin condition, or something."

"Or something," Natalie answered. "Thanks, Josh." She returned her attention to Mark as the freshmen made his way toward the school. "Sounds like this week our big mystery is entitled 'Force Fields and other titillations by Morach the Great.'"

The bell rang over the loudspeakers. "And it sounds like you have to get to first period," Mark said.

Natalie groaned. First period was science lab, and just thinking of science lab made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It had been like that since going up against a mad scientist at the beginning of the school year. Her stomach tingled, and deep inside she felt pressure, like a giant cat was rolling beneath her organs and growling. Funny, she didn't remember eating a lion for breakfast.

"You don't need to say it," Mark said. "I know how fast your metabolism burns through food thanks to your strength abilities."

"I don't think I'm hungry," she replied as she saw a shadow on the grass just around the corner of the school, almost like it was lurking. Her heart quickened with recognition of its hunky form. "Actually, maybe I am. I'll catch up with you, Mark," Natalie said as she patted the lapel of his jacket.

Mark huffed. "Teenagers," he sighed.

When she rounded the corner, she saw him—six feet two inches of dreamy brooding dark warrior-ness that made her skin quiver and her heart leap with manic excitement. And that was just how she thought of him when she wasn't being dramatic.

Just seeing him made her relax, even though she hadn't been aware until now that she was tense. He could draw her attention and gaze no matter where he was in a room, or whatever it was they were doing. Just to be in his presence made left her in awe. She might have been a high school senior, but Damien was so out of her league.

It didn't matter though. It seemed that he'd wanted her since the first moment they'd seen each other.

Damien swaggered over to her like he'd been cast in his own "Underworld" movie. His tanned face was covered in day-old stubble, and he was definitely easy on the eyes. He appeared to only be a few years older than her, but Natalie suspected he was far older, and not just from the wrinkles that creased around his eyes when he laughed.

With each step he took, her heart quickened. He had a strong jaw, a prominent brow, and he had the most intense eyes she'd ever. He smelled spicy in a very good way, and it made her want to snuggle up to him.

"Your time was well spent I hear. The bus and students are all safe. Too bad about the lawn." He chuckled at his own joke, but then his face fell. "What's the matter?" A soft hand cupped her chin, and it made her heart quiver with desire.

Still her eyes were haunted and sad. "I just wish you were around when I really needed you. I could have met my maker today. We all could have. And what were you doing?"

"I wasn't pricing sofas."

He needed a new line Natalie thought. This one was tattered and out of date.

"Morach's minions were in this school setting booby traps in the metal shop. For what, I haven't figured out, but the point is, I shouldn't have to explain myself to you. When are you going to trust me?"

Natalie didn't know the answer to that; she didn't know why she didn't trust him. "He's up to something. Talked about a force field keeping us prisoner here."

Damien snorted. "News to me. I just left Meadow's Creek this morning. I needed to stock up on some grain-free quinoa bagels."

Natalie's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Eww. Still, something about it makes my stomach tingle. And it's not your blasphemous bagels. I might need your help."

"All is forgiven between us then?" Damien asked.

Natalie felt that he was trying to change the subject, so she let him. "I guess it is handy having a sidekick. Saves me from trying to clone myself."

"I am no girl's sidekick," Damien scowled.

Natalie considered that with a toss of her head. "You look like a sidekick. Act like the sidekick. Scream bloody murder like a..."

"I killed two demons. They were big and very scary, but I never screamed. Never." His eyes narrowed and his voice was a rumble of thunder.

"Except for that time last week," Natalie pointed out with a wave of her finger.

"That wasn't a scream. It was more of a yelp."

She smirked. "This all proves why I work alone. Sidekicks are just too argumentative."

Damien snorted. "You always say that, but we still work together."

"Because you're always stalking me." Natalie huffed but took his hand in hers.

He put his hand on her waist and pulled her closer, making her heart quicken into a flurry of punches. "What are you doing?" she asked softly, crossing her wrists behind his neck.

"Convincing you how well we work together." Damien spoke in a low growl, and it sent shivers up her spine. His lips were warm and soft as they repeatedly met hers. Natalie couldn't help but close her eyes and get lost in his tender embrace. His hands gripped her back with urgency, and she ran her hands through his hair, forcing him closer to her.

Mouths parted, and his breath was hot against her neck, breathing desire into each pound of her heart. She loved him—she did—but most of the time, she still didn't trust him. Her blue eyes searched his. "Where did you really go?"

"I would have come to you if I'd known the danger you were in," he said quickly like he didn't need to think of an answer. "Will you ever trust me completely?" he asked with real concern in his voice, as if it weighed heavily upon him. Natalie was sorry for that.

"I trust you as much as I can under the circumstances."

"And the circumstances are?" Damien asked as he held her close, keeping his hands on her hips.

She tilted her head and studied him. His blue eyes were so intense, but she loved getting lost in them. "You're a half-demon warrior. I never know what side you're on."

Damien's mouth swung open and lines of frustration creased around his eyes. "Yours. Forever."

Her eyes gazed past him at the school. Scowling, she broke the embrace and drifted away from Damien. The wall shimmered, almost like a still pool of water under a full moon. It started out with a single glowing pinprick but expanded into a spinning radiant globe. The edges were gold while the center was a deep radiating blue that reminded her of the ocean. Natalie reached her hand out to touch it, and as her fingers grazed the orb, it exploded with thunder.

The wall faded as if it were being demolished, but there was no debris, no sound, nor cloud of smoke. For a moment, she could see inside into the library, with teenagers scattered about just like the ones she knew, only different. In a blink of an eye, the wall reappeared as if Natalie had imagined it all.

But she wasn't imagining the mocking laughter all around them. It was the hushed voice of an old man, raspy from a propensity for too many cigarettes. Sudden pain overtook her. She moaned and grabbed her stomach like she'd been punched. Her breath was suddenly labored, and when she looked up, Damien grabbed her arm.

"Natalie, what's the matter?"

"I think I'm going to need the school nurse. Don't let her stick me with anything funny."

Natalie collapsed onto the ground and heard jeering all around her as the grass and the trees fell away into a pixilated haze.

# Demon Royale

# Book 2 in The Dream Slayer Series

The only thing worse than dying, is running away...

Since becoming employed by a supernatural protection agency, Natalie Johnson's life has been more interesting than ever. While most teens are working on their summer tans, Natalie works on slaughtering the undead lurking just outside her town's borders.

The workload takes more than just a toll on her love life, it dampens her spirit and her health, as the town is plagued by a mysterious murderer intent on stealing the residents' souls. Natalie's investigation is hampered by her declining health and the sicker she gets, the more inadequate she feels.

Guilt over her inability to act, weighs heavily on Natalie's shoulders during a time when her strength is needed more than ever. As some of those closest to her begin to lose faith, she must make the hardest stand yet to save the soul of the one person she can always count on:

The Slayer.

# Chapter One

Life changed. People moved on.

But Natalie would never be the same.

Natalie Johnson squatted down atop a cliff. Her eyes followed the crowds of people below as they filed into the pancake house. The wooden stake in her hand dripped with black blood, and judging by the rustling in the trees below, she wasn't done using her stake that night.

A group of teenagers got out of their car and headed into the Maple Sweet restaurant, unaware they were being trailed by someone in the shadows—someone lurking in the comfort of the trees. His movements were controlled with delicate precision as he crept along, and even from this distance, Natalie could make out the yellow of his eyes.

Vampires. She hated the lot of them, but they were her job. Her mistake—her problem.

She started her descent off the mountain, her feet perched on the rocks, and her knees bent like she was going to surf the cliffs. Natalie's plan was to sail through the air, putting her trajectory between the innocent teenagers and the vampire ghoul...

Until her foot slipped and pebbles slid out from underneath her sneaker. Arms flailing, Natalie fell onto her butt and slid down the rocks until she landed on her stomach right beside a parked car.

Her blue glasses sat askew on her face like she'd fallen asleep on them, but at least she hadn't been knocked unconscious this time. Natalie hopped up to her feet and a rasping growl caught her attention.

The vampire was eyeing her like she was walking lunch. Most vampires couldn't speak, and this one was no exception. Instead, it just growled at her, though his eyes flashed recognition of who she was.

Good. Maybe they were circulating an undead flyer with her picture on it; that would keep the undead ghouls up during the day when they should be sleeping to recharge for their evening feeding.

He advanced on her, but his movements were cautious, and he barely got within arm's length. Natalie leaped forward and snatched him by the arm. She then spun him as if they were dancing a private waltz and sent his body crunching into a parked car. The vampire howled and lurched forward with his clawed fingers outstretched for her.

Natalie stomped on his foot, kneed the beast in the stomach, and delivered a knockout punch across his jaw. The vampire's head snapped to the side and blood sprayed out of his mouth. His eyes rolled like shiny marbles in their sockets, and his eyebrows drew together in an angry scowl. He hissed, saliva dripping down his chin, and Natalie took the opportunity to drive her wooden stake into his chest.

With a solid thrust, Natalie grunted and heard his sternum snap in his chest. She stepped back, pulling her stake free with an angry flourish. This was the point where she was supposed to say something witty, but she found she couldn't.

"I'm sorry," Natalie whispered. "I'm sorry, Mr. Mitchell, that I let the vampires into our town. I'm sorry for what they did to you. I'm sorry you had to die for my mistake."

Her mistake. She hadn't known her daydreams were real and would bring nightmares into the real world, or that she would have to use a powerful magic to stop the Patricians, a group of supercharged magicians, in a tug of war game with her power as her prize.

The crystal was only thing that could defeat them, and when she did that, she had let more vampires and demons into Meadow's Creek than there were geeks at a Star Trek convention.

The vampire's face changed for a split second, and Natalie thought he might speak to her, but that was crazy. Even if he could, he'd never get the chance, as his body began to puddle into black blood. Natalie watched as his face melted away like a lit candle turning to wax. The gooey liquid dripped against the car and began to drip down the driver's side door.

She felt like sighing and could have cried if allowed to think on it for too long. Luckily for her, a group of girls from school came by. They were in denim miniskirts and clingy tank tops. Even though it was August, they were spray-tan orange—it was hard to get an even tan in Vermont no matter what time of year it was.

"Eww," one of the girls said. "Did you puke on that car?"

Another girl rolled her eyes. "Puke isn't black. Or maybe yours is."

Natalie turned away. "I didn't do anything," she defended, but the mocking laughter that followed rang in her ears. Her eyes stung with hot tears, but it wasn't because of the teasing—that didn't bother her anymore. When people turned into undead, bloodsucking beasts because of things you did, a little thing like laughter didn't bother you so much.

Natalie heard clapping coming from the restaurant, and she headed toward it. She saw Kenneth with his thick black glasses. He was dressed in a navy suit and a matching tie. His jacket pocket was lined with a plastic protector, and in his hand was a brown clipboard. Underneath it all, Natalie saw a handsome older man. The guy had to be pushing twenty-one, and he was in Meadow's Creek for her.

Kenneth checked off a few boxes on his clipboard. "Ms. Johnson, your dismount was less than stellar, and while your staking was efficient, you forgot to issue the requisite one-liner."

"I didn't forget." Natalie's lips set in a straight line. "I didn't think it was appropriate. A man died."

Kenneth's face remained unchanged. "His fate doesn't change whether you issue the witty remark or not. And you were breaking protocol." He sighed and tucked the clipboard under his arm. "As your probation officer, I am forced to remind you that the quicker you prove to me that you are ready, the faster I can approve you for field duty. Then we can both go back to our lives."

Natalie held her breath and her cheeks puffed up with air while she listened to his latest criticism. "Now I feel forced to remind you that I am already in the field. I stopped the Patricians from destroying the town and stopped Morach from killing Mr. Buckle. I'm new, yes, but I think we were doing just fine before you got here."

"But you failed to capture him, didn't you?" Kenneth's chin stuck out in a smug display. "The World Organization of Magical Protection has commanded his capture, and until you do, your mission is incomplete as far as WOMP is concerned. If I must, I will repeat section two, paragraph seven B—"

Natalie held up her hand. "No need." Her teeth smacked together. "I remember. I'm going to go back inside and get something to eat. All this vampire hunting has made me hungry."

Kenneth brought his clipboard back out to jot something down, but he remained quiet. Natalie was glad. She hated going toe to toe with him and was grateful that most of the time her custodian, Charles Buckle, worked as a buffer. Even so, she wished Damien was around to put Kenneth in his place.

But no one knew if Damien was dead or alive. His body was never found inside the rubble of the high school cafeteria after the explosion last spring, and no one had seen him since that day. After everything they'd been through, she knew if he was okay, he'd come back. But he hadn't, so maybe he was dead too. An agent against evil for years, and a few days with her had ended his life.

Part of Natalie felt like she'd see him again. She couldn't believe he was really gone, and something in her soul said she'd see him again. Natalie knew she wasn't in love with him, not really, but he was handsome... and way too old for her. Besides, she had a boyfriend.

They headed toward the old-style Victorian home refashioned into a bustling restaurant. With its yellow shutters and stained-glass windows, it was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. It was dusk, and the bright lights from town shone against the backdrop of the green mountains. Vermont had never looked so beautiful.

The French doors were decorated with multicolored glass, and around the side were sweeping bay windows that allowed patrons to gaze out at the city. Through the glass, she could see the life of the busy restaurant as they went inside and found their tables.

Food was already at the table, and sitting side by side in a booth was the rest of her team. Michelle Tracker, a friend Natalie had recently reconnected with, and Charles Buckle. But her eyes settled on Tristan, and her heart thumped an intense beat at the sight of him. He was relaxed in a t-shirt and jeans, but something about the way he breathed and chewed his bacon was enough to cause a stirring in her soul.

They'd been friends their entire lives, and Natalie had been more than surprised when he'd professed his love for her, but she'd been downright astonished when her own feelings for him intensified. When he looked at her and their eyes connected, a small smile played on his lips, and Natalie was overcome with a warm glow, like standing in the sun after a rainy day.

She settled with sliding beside him into the booth. His arm tucked around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. For a moment, Natalie nuzzled her nose against his neck and took a deep breath. His cologne was spicy but sweet and made her heart gallop faster.

Someone cleared their throat, and it wasn't Charles Buckle, but rather Kenneth in the booth beside theirs. He was seated alone with his plate of pancakes, but he was surrounded by a towering display of books and study materials.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Bacon gone down the wrong way. Just go about your business and pretend I'm not here."

Charles gave him a sharp look. He pursed his lips and his brow furrowed before wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin. "Any luck?"

Michelle rolled her eyes. "You talk about it like she was out searching for some car keys."

Charles and Tristan shushed the redheaded beauty before she gave anything away.

Natalie glanced at Kenneth and saw that he was again writing something down. It left her distracted. "Yup. Vampire's dead," she said simply.

Two people in the booth the other side of them to Kenneth's turned to stare, pieces of bacon hanging from their mouths.

"Way to go with just blurting stuff out, Natalie," Michelle said sarcastically.

"I didn't say it that loud, did I?" she scowled.

"Loud enough," Charles said with a sigh and sipped his tea. He nodded his head toward Natalie so she would know to pick up the thread.

She took a deep breath, not used to talking in front of groups of people greater than two, but she was getting better at it since her custodian had forced her to do it almost daily. "Miss Farbaker is being buried tomorrow. She might rise from the grave being all... you know... fangy." Natalie watched the booth in front of her to make sure no one turned around this time. "We need to stake her out, and if she rises from the grave all undead, then we need to... umm... stake her." Natalie scowled at her poor sentence structure, but it was too late for a do over.

"All night?" Michelle asked with a roll of her eyes.

Natalie's eyes were on Kenneth. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, Michelle. We can handle it without you."

"Or," Michelle said with a grin, "we could bring Marcus to keep me company."

Everyone at the table groaned. It wasn't the first time Michelle had tried to get Marcus to join their paladin party.

"C'mon. He really wants to help. I told him about all the cool stuff we do." Michelle folded up half a pancake and stuffed it in her mouth.

Kenneth cleared his throat and took a sip of water. "Sorry... you people do realize that slaying vampires is a life or death situation, don't you?"

Natalie's heart leaped with nerves, but Michelle was oblivious to her discomfort. "So?" Michelle bounced in her seat and batted her eyelashes at Charles. "Please, Chuck."

Charles shook his head as he wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "Absolutely not. Having two non-paladins going out on missions is enough to have WOMP on my case as it is. I can't explain one more. Not without the boss becoming even more furious with me than she already is."

Michelle narrowed her eyes and stuffed a fork full of hash brown in her mouth. "I can't believe you guys won't even let him try. He'd be a really good sidekick." Michelle tossed down her napkin and made her escape, pulling down her dress a little as she stood.

Natalie wanted to rush after her, but Tristan's hand on her thigh steadied her.

Charles cleared his throat, and his eyes were on Kenneth when he spoke. "By standard rules, there should only be the paladin and the custodian. We are already an unconventional team, I think its best we not draw attention to ourselves any further."

"Slayer dudes, there can only ever be two! The master and the apprentice!" It was Marcus with his crazy shaggy haircut and Austin Powers glasses. That night he was wearing a yellow t-shirt and a black jacket with a black striped tie swinging around his neck. He flopped down in Michelle's seat and pulled Charles' plate of pancakes over. "Are you done with this?"

"She'll be okay, Nat." Tristan pulled her hair from her neck and gave her a kiss.

Natalie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She loved it when he did stuff like that, even if they were in public. Under the table, her hand crept over to his knee and gave him a squeeze. His hot breath was against her lips in an open-mouth kiss, and desire built inside her. They may have been alone at the table for all she knew, and Natalie couldn't have been happier.

Their moment was interrupted like a needle grating against a record.

"How's everything?" a woman asked as she stopped by their table. Natalie recognized her as the owner of the restaurant, Evelyn Drake. She was in her customary brown uniform with a long white apron, which was decorated with a bottle of maple syrup, tied around her waist. She was a simple woman, and the only accessory she wore was a blue pendant around her neck.

"Great." Natalie smiled meekly as Marcus gave her two thumbs up while eating the last of the hash browns. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her probation officer making more notes. She felt so closed in when he was around and wanted to scream, but that wouldn't help her cause at all.

"Oh, Mr. Buckle, hello." Evelyn blushed as she said his name. Natalie watched with growing concern; 'Mr. Buckle' was her name for him.

Charles immediately stood to address her and bumped his knee on the table. He grimaced while Evelyn gave a short chuckle, covering her mouth delicately with her hand. "Ms. Drake, it's good to see you again, of course." A silly grin came over his face as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"You too. I hope your pancakes were good."

"Oh yes, he's just a food-stealing menace." Charles gestured to Marcus, who was shoveling food into his mouth by the truckload.

"Well good, glad to hear it. I guess I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Two?"

Charles nodded. "I'll be there."

Be where? Natalie wanted to scream but didn't. Did they have a freestanding appointment? And if so, how come she was just hearing about it? Her custodian couldn't date, could he?

"Good." Evelyn gave him a grin before moving on to the next table.

Natalie and Tristan's mouths were open in shock. "Chuck, you have a... date? With a woman?"

"It's not unheard of. I do occasionally socialize with adults." Charles took his seat in the booth but glowered at Kenneth. "Mr. Parsons, does that really need to be noted? I am afforded a social life."

Kenneth sipped his water and didn't look up. "A thorough report is a good report, Agent Buckle."

Charles sighed in resignation.

"At least we know why he always wants us to discuss our missions over pancakes." Natalie smirked, but the idea of her custodian dating made her feel possessive enough to blush. "I'm going to go check on Michelle." Natalie gave Tristan a parting smile and headed down the rows of tables.

She took a deep breath, allowing her jealous feelings to flow off of her, but it still nagged at the back of her mind. Charles was an adult, and if he wanted to date, he was allowed to. She dated, and it was nice. Everyone should have a chance at happiness, and there was more to life than just slaying vampires.

Natalie was happy for him—really.

She dodged several high-speed waitresses as she came to the bathroom door by the entry into the kitchen. The waitresses raced by like they had wheel on their feet, balancing trays full of plates with towering pancake stacks. And on the wall, Natalie saw dainty bottles of syrup in a row. Some were full and some nearly empty, but all were amber in color.

She pushed through the swinging door to the restroom, and the fragrant aroma of flowers hit her immediately. There was a giant green vase against the wall filled with gorgeous lilies, sprays, and leafy garland. The walls were painted brown, like chocolate, and each of the vanity sinks were separated by a small bowl of potpourri. The smell was so strong, it was like stepping into a florist shop.

Crouched down on the floor, Michelle was vomiting, and there were tears streaming down her face. Natalie raced to her side, but her friend shook her head and pointed to the open bathroom stall, the one where blood pooled on the floor.

Natalie pushed into the bathroom stall to find a woman still sitting on the toilet. Her head was leaned back, and her panties were around her calves as if it was just a regular bathroom visit, but her body was covered in blood. It was matted in her hair and streaked down her limbs like she'd bathed in it. Her hands gripped at her abdomen, but she wasn't alive. Natalie could tell from the way her head was rocked back with her eyes staring up at the ceiling. But whatever had happened to her, her mouth was drawn in a single line as if she was asleep or peacefully resting.

The stench of blood hit her all at once. Natalie swallowed back the racing vomit, and her paladin instincts kicked in, pushing the rest of her emotional responses to the side.

She studied the victim from a distance at first. The woman couldn't have been older than eighteen, and had beautiful hair once. She wore sneakers paired with a short clingy miniskirt and a pink button blouse. Everything was stained red, and as Natalie studied her, she could still see the slow dripping of blood. It was everywhere.

Natalie stepped farther in, trying not to step in the growing puddle, but she found it near impossible. She grabbed some toilet paper and used it to tilt back the woman's head. It looked free of injury, but as the paladin tried to move the woman's arm away from her abdomen, the sweet smell of flesh blood hit her.

The woman's blouse was half-unbuttoned, and her hands weren't merely resting against her abdomen, they were inside it. The skin was nonexistent, torn away as if a bomb had gone off inside her. Shreds of muscles hung from her abdomen cavity like drapes made of beads, and shards of broken bone fragments clung to her flesh. Her hands were bright red, as if dipped in red paint, and underneath each fingernail were long strands of flesh.

It wasn't a vampire.

It wasn't suicide.

This was something much worse.

"Natalie," Michelle's voice sobbed. "Your hair..."

Turning to the mirror, Natalie saw what Michelle was talking about. Her hair was tinged blond at the roots, just like the slayer's. Eyes widening with shock, Natalie witnessed her irises turn from brown to blue.

Something inside her was changing. Natalie groaned like she'd been punched in the stomach. She gripped the door stall and found Michelle was at her side. "I think I'm going to pass out."

"Again?" Michelle's nose wrinkled. "Should I get you a pillow or something?"

Natalie let out an exasperated breath, and her vision flashed with swirls of grass. She could smell salty water and hear happy squeals from children. Putting a hand to her forehead, she saw a lake filled with boats, and her feet were damp.

Her body thudded to the ground as her world faded into darkness.

# Dawning Apocalypse

# Book 3 in The Dream Slayer Series

Protection, murder, deception....

No one can know Natalie works for a supernatural protection agency and is charged with protecting Meadow's Creek from vampires. But as their numbers swell, their presence doesn't go unnoticed throwing her town under the microscope from the local government and the FBI.

Natalie's job is pushed even further into the shadows where she must dodge the police, concerned citizens and even her own parents. Meanwhile a deadly plague grips the town and Natalie suspects it's more than just a hacking cough.

While the stress of working overtime erodes her relationships she will race against time, illness, to face a familiar enemy, save an old friend, and stop an undead seize that wants nothing more than to suck Meadow's Creek dry.

# Chapter One

Rain hit the pavement.

The street lights glowed amber in the darkness. Off in the distance sirens wailed and the flashing police lights beckoned Natalie Johnson closer to the scene of the crime.

She was dressed all in black, her brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and her head covered in a black knit winter cap. Natalie was dressed more like a super spy than a teenage girl with the propensity for shoving a piece of wood through a vampire's heart.

But things were different. Things had changed.

Vampires had caught the eye of government officials and now she had to balance her duties of being a paladin while sneaking past the FBI. There was a city wide curfew and with Halloween just days away, the city was on high alert. They thought a serial killer was on the loose, but the truth was much worse.

Much darker.

Natalie couldn't tell them. She couldn't tell anyone. Instead she had to fight pockets of vampires one on one, hoping her actions depleted the vampire's numbers enough that the media would stop sensationalizing the murders and the FBI would be called away somewhere else. If Natalie could figure out who sired all the vampires, why they could now get in uninvited and go out during the day time, her life would be so much easier.

This was bad enough, but she actually had a week's worth of detention. Talk about cramping a girl's style.

65 Maple Street was a brick apartment complex and where Flora and Ivan Grayson had lived, before they were murdered. Natalie came to it and saw what she expected, flashing lights from an ambulance, a coroner's van, and the host of regular suspects; Special Field Agents Jack Davis and Grace Farland.

Good people, but Natalie was pinned down; unable to move with them in town watching everyone's every move. She hadn't run into them yet personally, but it was only a matter of time.

And what was she going to say? Sorry I broke curfew. Vampires made me do it.

Natalie squatted down beside an old dark Chevrolet, her jacket giving a light crinkle that only she could hear thanks to the pelting rain. She took in her surroundings with one swoop of her eyes: Two gurneys with people in body bags and the FBI headed inside the apartment while the police strung the yellow do-not-cross tape.

It almost seemed safe. The police were there. Everything was going to be fine. But the rules weren't the same and no one knew that.

Except Natalie.

She touched her ear and static came over her new communication device; issued from WOMP after a series of late night paperwork filings. Natalie still had the paper cuts to prove it. "Two bodies," she whispered. Natalie paused, her eyes being drawn to the roof of the apartment buildings.

Behind the backdrop of the moonlight she saw a human form moving, shadowing the movement of several officers on the west side of the building.

"Bob's still here." Natalie used their keyword for vampires since the media had dubbed the 'serial killer' Pinhole Bob thanks to the marks left on the victims' necks. "He's on the move."

Her ear cleared of static. "Be careful," Charles Buckle, her guide and old mentor said with a stern sharpness to his voice. She didn't have a cover story if she got caught and the last thing she needed right now was having her parents awoken in the middle of the night by the police.

Natalie managed to skirt closer by ducking car to car. She reached down and gathered some small pebbles, but they were big enough to do what she needed them to do.

Reaching her arm back, Natalie propelled them toward the police cruisers and then ducked down low, her back against the tires and her knees bent to hide her frame. The flashlights from the officers changed direction and their footsteps moved to investigate the noise.

Natalie used that time to move around the side of the car and duck behind the other side of the apartment building. Using a drain pipe, she climbed the side of the house like she was Miss Piggy in the Great Muppet Caper, only with more skill and more comfortable shoes, and launched herself onto the roof.

She sailed through the air, her legs extended and the soles of her boots collided with the chest of a fangy vampire, his eyes glowing yellow like the rodent he was. His back crunched against the roof and Natalie rolled onto her feet, reaching inside her pocket and retrieving her wooden stake.

She gave it a spin for bravado and took an offensive stance. The vampire launched an attack, swinging his mighty claws, but his eyes flashed recognition.

He stopped. Recoiling away, he hissed a warning.

"Finish it." Natalie taunted. "I'm just a girl. Come here and take me on."

All vampires fought to the death, but not this one. He ran like he was afraid, like he was acting on more than just instinct. "Hey!" Natalie called and lunged; grabbing the hem of his jacket and yanking him backwards.

He growled, his nose against hers. There was no fight in him at all. He was the most non-vampire vampire she had ever fought. When Natalie pushed the wooden stake into his chest, it was too anticlimactic. Like the battle had to be fierce to be won, but he just dissolved.

Into a black puddle, like they always did.

And then there were a dozen small lights shining on her.

Crap, Natalie thought and dove to the ground, rolling against the flat roof. Voices ran out from downstairs. "Someone is on the roof!"

She scampered across the rooftop on all fours, keeping her belly low to the ground. When she reached the other side, footsteps charged the fire escape. Her heart galloped so fast in her chest, she could barely breathe. There was no time to think or plan, Natalie just had to react.

She jumped off the roof, landed in a squat on the dumpster below, and dove onto the grass. She fell into a rolling summersault and before she knew which way was up, Natalie was charging from the street. But she wasn't alone, there were officers charging her and in the distance, a car engine reved to life. Sirens turned to full volume.

If ever Natalie needed an emergency super spy extraction, it was right then. But there was no one that could help her. Only she could get herself out of this. Heck, Natalie had created a dream dimension out of nothing where everyone she knew had an alter personality. She herself was the all-powerful slayer. What would the slayer do?

She couldn't get caught. She couldn't be arrested or let the secret out, not without WOMP being seriously pissed of at her. Natalie didn't know if she was right or wrong, but she needed to hide.

And hide fast.

She led the officers away from the apartment building and she did it by cutting across lawns, jumping fences, and breaking at least half a dozen property laws along the way. Natalie cringed as she jumped into a tree, her shaking limbs pulling her up into some kid's tree house. She barely managed to pull her legs in before she fell to the planks of wood that served as the floor.

Her lungs were laboring hard and Natalie wanted to gasp for breath, to take a deep inhale, but voices whispered below. Her chest was aching, screaming for relief, but all she could do was squeeze her eyes shut and pray to God they didn't find her.

"We lost him." Said a female's voice. Natalie thought it might be FBI Grace McFarland, but her voice was raspy—like she had a cold.

"Him?" The raspy, grating voice could only be that of Jack Davis, the lead agent and major thorn in Natalie's side. "I'm pretty sure when I shined my flashlight on the killer, I saw a woman. A girl." Davis corrected himself.

Natalie squeezed her eyes shut and in her mind, she swore. She didn't do that a lot, but it seemed appropriate given the situation. Had they seen her face clearly? And had they realized what she did moments before they discovered her?

"Keep sweeping the area. The killer has to be around here somewhere. Maybe even lives here. Keep your eyes open."

Natalie laid still until the footsteps and the lights of the cars were gone. Then she rolled onto her back, finally taking a deep much needed breath. She touched her hand to her ear.

"How bad was it?" Charles asked.

"Bad." Natalie heaved.

"Should I put on a pot of tea?"

Natalie didn't even need to think about it. "That's the best thing you've said all week." Communication fell silent and Natalie rolled onto her belly. Outside the coast was clear so she made her way to Buckle's Gifts, using buildings for cover.

When she got there, the lights were dim but Charles was at his desk with two cups of strong tea. Natalie sipped hers and it warmed her. The caffeine helped give her a nice jolt of energy. "Tomorrow night is Halloween."

Charles sighed. "I know."

"We need to call the city dance off. It's too dangerous."

Surprised, he glanced up. "I don't see how we can do that. What reason would we give to alert the police? The mayor?"

"How about a serial killer?" Natalie said.

"The FBI and police are going to be there. Everyone will assume they are perfectly safe. A dangerous assumption, but we have no other choice."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "So tomorrow night, we go and cross our fingers. Hope for the best?"

Charles nodded and held his breath. "It's our only option."

Natalie drained her cup. "Make it a double." She slammed it down and waited for Charles to fill her back up.

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