by Tee Ayer
I was furious with myself and what I’d caused. My leaving the colony had started a chain of events which led to my pack-mate almost dying on the streets of Chicago. If Anjelo had died, it would have been my fault, no question about it.
How stupid could I have been to think I was acting in some sort of vacuum. I hadn’t even given a though to what example I’d been setting for the younger shifters I’d grown up with.
Across the cot, Storm was silent though his eyes were clear and calm and completely devoid of judgement.
“This is Storm,” Anjelo said, voice husky. “He’s given me a place to stay, and he’s bossed me into going to school here...some place called Crawdon High.” The boy huffed then inhaled slowly, as though talking was a huge effort.
“Great. Well, then, you’d better work hard. And I guess I’ll be seeing more of you.”
The kid’s eyes filled with expectation as though he was looking forward to it. Not that I could understand why since even my own sister didn’t have the time for me. Greer would be entirely unaffected if the cops turned up on our doorstep one day to break the news of my death to my family. A little bit dramatic but pretty much on the nose for a girl like Greer.
But what I lacked from an older sister appeared to be what I was receiving from Anjelo, and who was I to turn down the chance at making friends. Better friends than I’d had back home.
Anjelo’s laugh only echoed the part of my heart that was filled with joy.
Thank you for reading this little window on Kai’s past. I plan to write a few more flashback scenes featuring various characters from the DarkWorld Universe so stay tuned and sign up for my newsletter to avoid missing out.
The SKINWALKER Series continues with Veiled Curse as Kai, Logan and the team have to pay the price of the Sharaita before they figure out where the Ni’amh stands in the grand scheme of things
VEILED CURSE on PRE-SALE Now
The SkinWalker Series wraps up with Book 10 DARK HUNT
DARK HUNT on PRE-SALE Now
The SkinWalker Series
Skin Deep eBook ~ Audiobook
Lost Soul
Last Chance
Blood Promise
Scorched Fury
Fate’s Edge
Grave Debt
Oath Bound
Rebel Heart
Veiled Curse
Dark Hunt
The SkinWalker Series
Also, if you want more to read along the lines of the SkinWalker Series then the SoulTracker Novels would be perfect.
Mel Morgan is the High Level Tracker that Kai hires to help her find Greer. Mel uses her teleportation and astral projection abilities to find missing people. Only problem is, all that tracking bounds to land Mel in a sticky situation or two. Add in her stubborn gargoyle sidekick, her cute blond - and very human - hacker, and a sexy as sin Djinn client, and it makes for an interesting life.
The SoulTracker Series
Blood Magic ebook ~ Blood Magic Audiobook
Demon Kin ebook ~ Demon Kin Audiobook
Blood Curse ebook ~ Blood Curse Audiobook
Demon Soul
Blood Moon
Demon Bones
Soul Bound
Blood Born
Coming in 2020
Demon Scourge
Blood Witch
The SoulTracker Series on Tee’s Website
Also in the DarkWorld:
The Irin Chronicles Series
Featuring Evangeline, The Nephilim, & Barry the Albino Demon Overlord, who just happens to be allergic to angel feathers…. Oops!?
Retribution
Requiem
Resonance
Coming in 2020
Revelation
Reckoning
Also by Tee Ayer
Young Adult Paranormal
THE VALKYRIE UNIVERSE
The Valkyrie Series
Dead Radiance eBook ~ Audiobook
Dead Embers eBook ~ Audiobook
Dead Chaos eBook ~ Audiobook
Dead Wrath eBook ~ Audioook
Dead Silence eBook ~ Audiobook
The Valkyrie Novels Books 1-3 eBook ~ Audiobook
The Valkyrie Series
The Einherjar Series (Valkyrie Companion Series
Joshua - Dead Radiance
Joshua II - Dead Embers
Coming in 2020
Joshua III - Dead Chaos
Joshua IV - Dead Wrath
Joshua V - Dead Silence
Adult Urban Fantasy
THE DARKWORLD UNIVERSE
The DarkWorld SkinWalker Series (Kai)
Skin Deep eBook ~ Audiobook
Lost Soul
Last Chance
Blood Promise
Scorched Fury
Fate’s Edge
Grave Debt
Oath Bound
Rebel Heart
Coming in 2020
Veiled Curse
Dark Hunt
SkinWalker Box Set - Books 1-3
SkinWalker Box Set - Books 4-6
The SkinWalker Series
The DarkWorld SoulTracker Series (Mel)
Blood Magic ebook ~ Blood Magic Audiobook
Demon Kin ebook ~ Demon Kin Audiobook
Blood Curse ebook ~ Blood Curse Audiobook
Demon Soul
Blood Moon
Demon Bones
Soul Bound
Blood Born
Coming in 2020
Demon Scourge
Blood Witch
The SoulTracker Series on Tee’s Website
The DarkWorld Origins
Pyros (Logan)
The DarkWorld Irin Chronicles Series (Evie)
Retribution
Requiem
Resonance
Coming in 2020
Revelation
Reckoning
Restitution
The Irin Chronicles Series
The DarkWorld Iron Fae Series (Tara)
Coming in 2020
The DarkWorld DeathTalker Series (Nerina)
Coming in 2020
The DarkWorld MindMelder Series (Darcy)
Coming in 2020
The DarkWorld ShapeChanger Series (Cassie)
Coming in 2020
The KaliYug Universe
The Apsara Chronicles
Immortal Bound
Gods Ascendent
Coming in 2020
Vengeance Born
Last Legion
Realms Asunder
The Apsara Chronicles
The Swarga Files
Coming in 2020
Dominion Falling
The Hand of Kali Series
Fire & Shadow
Blood & Gold
Time & Fate
Fury & Virtue
Spirit & Soul
Demigod
Coming in 2020
Gods & Mortals
The Hand of Kali Box Set Vol 1- Books 1-3
The Hand of Kali Box Set Vol 2- Books 4-6
The Hand of Kali Series
The Dark Sight Series
Dark Sight
Cursed Sight
Vissarion
Shadow Sight
The Dark Sight Series
Adult Sci-Fi
The Hand’s Assassin (Aeon 14 Universe with M.D. Cooper
Death Dealer
Coming in 2020
Death Mark
The Hand’s Assassin Series
New Adult Contemporary Thriller w/a Toni Vallan
Beautiful Collision
Beautiful Conviction
The Desperation Series
Psychological Horror w/a Toni Vallan
Dark Shadows
Blood Magic: DarkWorld: SoulTracker Series #1 Sample
1
Mel
Helplessness is hell. And I knew all about it.
He cleared his throat. “Will you do it, Miss Morgan? The police said they can’t do anything more. They have other cases to deal with…more urgent ones
.” Martin Cross’s words barreled out of him in a downpour of hope, and fear that there was no hope. A strange combination of emotions I could relate to.
You hope and pray, then you are afraid to hope in case the worst is true.
“Do you have a job?” I asked, my voice absent of emotion.
Cross looked up, startled. He hadn’t expected the question. I hadn’t yet answered his.
He nodded, the movement a handful of jerks. “I’m a mechanic.”
“Go back to work,” I said, my tone a little sharper than I’d intended. He seemed about to protest, eyes wide, mouth half open, but I held up a hand. “If—and that’s an honest ‘if’—I bring her home alive, you don’t want her to see you falling apart. You need to be strong for her. And I can’t promise how long this will take. It may be a week, it may be a few months. I’ll find her, alive or not….”
For a moment, confusion darkened his face, twisted his brow. He didn’t want to entertain the possibility that his daughter may never come home. And he didn’t want to hear me say it. I was supposed to tell him everything would be all fine, that he shouldn’t worry and that I’d bring her home healthy and happy.
But I’m not in the business of leading people on. I track, and the results aren’t always to my satisfaction. Understandably, people don’t like it when their loved ones aren’t found or when they turn up dead.
But even dead was something. Dead was closure. Something I’d never gotten.
“You need to be prepared for either result.” My words hovered in the air between us as he shifted his gaze away from me.
But Martin Cross had made the effort to find me. That said something. His body said the rest. His haggard face and haunted eyes spoke of fear-filled, sleep-deprived nights, of days where hunger and thirst were the furthest things from his mind. His rumpled jeans and stained shirt, oily unwashed hair that stood in clumped disarray from having those stiff fingers scraped through it every so often—it all spoke of endless days and endless nights of staring off into space, replaying the fateful day over and over, wondering what he could have done differently, going over all his if-only’s, falling into bed, unbathed, in yesterday’s clothes only to lie there all night, thinking, twisting guilt and hope, grief and anger into an almost tangible knot that lay in his gut, slowly taking him over.
I watched him, hands on the graffitied wooden table, fingers twisted so tight the knuckles gleamed bloodlessly, nails bitten to the quick and jagged at the corners. He unraveled his fingers for a moment to pick up the folder in front of him, turned it around and pushed it toward me. I didn’t move.
He’d moved the file only an inch. He didn’t think I’d believe him, didn’t think I’d take the case. And maybe he was right.
Still, I planned to listen, at least.
I pulled the file toward me and opened it. A worn photograph sat on top of a thick stack of papers. A little girl in blue jeans and blonde pigtails smiled back at me. She was missing two front teeth. I didn’t answer him. Couldn’t give him hope. Not yet.
Again, I didn’t answer his question. I glanced up and met his red-eyed gaze. “Do you have it?”
He nodded, reached into his pocket and handed me a crumpled-up Kleenex. I knew what it was before I unraveled the paper. A tiny little off-white incisor sat within the folds of the white tissue paper. Apparently, the tooth fairy had missed her rounds.
Or maybe the kid had missed the tooth fairy?
I set the Kleenex beside the file and moved the photograph to one side. A copy of the police report lay on top of printouts of emailed correspondence with the detective in charge. If anything, Cross was methodical. The last stack of papers said Cross was also a doer. A plastic sleeve sat thick with Missing Persons fliers.
Samantha Cross. 6 years old. Missing.
I handed the fliers back to him, and he nodded more to himself than to me. When he met my gaze again, I swallowed imperceptibly. His hope was a near visceral thing. And I was wearing the mantle of it on my shoulders, would continue to bear it until I knew what had happened to Samantha.
Now, we sat in a truck stop a few miles outside of Chicago, far enough away from prying eyes. I’d chosen the darkest booth furthest from the window. I preferred to keep to the shadows. No sense in advertising my presence.
When he lifted his gaze to mine, I felt a tug of sympathy. I knew that look, saw it all the time. Almost every time someone comes to me, it’s the expression in their eyes that answers my final questions. And now his eyes were filled with terror and hope, desperation and hope. As if he didn’t dare consider the possibility I could help because there was always a chance I couldn’t. He thought I would fail. I could see it in his bleak expression. The threads were beginning to unravel and very soon he’d lose what little faith he still had left. I wouldn’t let that happen. I prayed I wouldn’t let that happen.
Missing people can be found. Not all missing people are found.
I’m good, maybe even the best I know of. I find people for a living. My business is dependent on people losing people. The idea doesn’t sit so well with me, but it is what it is. Not that I need to find people for a living. I could very well choose to find things. Finding cutting-edge nuclear warheads stolen from the government, locating lists of undercover cops within drug cartels—I can do that. Do the job, find the target, no questions asked. But things hold no interest for me. People do.
I find people. And I don’t play to lose.
I lost once. Big time. Too big to forget, too big to close the file. I’m still searching, and someday I will find my sister. Until then, I will find other people’s lost people.
“Do you think you can find her?” Cross’s voice rasped, and he coughed behind crooked fingers.
What he was really asking was if I’d find her alive. I’m a tracker, not a seer. No amount of wishing on my part would predict or guarantee Samantha being found alive.
I rose, and Cross got to his feet, too. Manners, even in a mechanic, are a good sign. “I’ll call you if I find anything. And go back to work,” I said, before walking out the door. From the corner of my eye, I saw the nod he gave me. I hadn’t answered his question, and he seemed to have accepted my decision not to.
I climbed into my truck, satisfied. He’d go back to work, and he wouldn’t call. I hadn’t mentioned payment. Cross didn’t exactly look like a trust fund baby. I sighed. This one’s going to be pro-bono.
Now, all I needed to do was find Samantha Cross.
Thank you for reading. Read the rest of The SOULTRACKER Series starting with Blood Magic ebook or Blood Magic Audiobook
Retribution: The Irin Chronicles #1 Sample
1
Evangeline ducked into the shadows as Baltazar crossed the street. When he reached the sidewalk, he glanced over his shoulder and stared straight at her. Evie silenced a gasp. For the briefest second, she feared she'd been spotted.
Then he turned, looked ahead and continued walking.
Evie remained steeped in darkness until she felt assured he wouldn't be turning around to investigate the shadows.
The Boston night was cold. Icy enough to snare her breath and weave misty coils with it in the air before her face. But she paid scant attention to the weather. She had followed Marcellus' directions and arrived at the demon's lair. Her search had come up with nothing, so she had followed Baltazar hoping the object the Master was after was on the demon's person. She had tracked him through the warren of old, red-brick Colonial buildings along Acorn Street and its narrow cobbled roads. She was careful to soften the sound of her heels on the smoothed stones. Hugged by fresh green moss, the worn stones shone in the pale moonlight, brightening the street. But the iridescent beauty of the multi-hued, red-and-grey cobblestones was lost on Evie.
It only put her on edge.
She kept her eyes on Baltazar's muscle-bound shoulders, stalking him as he loped to the edge of a small tree-lined park which hugged the darkened neighborhood. Old gas lamps cast pale, buttery light on his dark head as
he walked the stone pathway that curved through the elms and oaks. He was large with the body of a wrestler and limbs and muscles to match. But that didn't matter to Evie.
He was no match for her.
Baltazar slipped through an opening in the tree-line up ahead and disappeared down the hillside without a sound. Evie followed, avoiding branches and shrubbery as adeptly as her quarry. She tailed him until he arrived at a cliff-top clearing that gave a glittering, magical view of the city.
Tiny pinpricks of lights flickered and blinked in the valley below, like multi-colored diamonds thrown carelessly on the dark surface of the land.
While the view held his attention, Evie bent and drew her silver dagger from her boot, releasing her Damascus blade from its leather sheath. She held her breath, weighing both blades in her hands, gaining comfort and strength from their familiar weight.
She was ready.
Evie, coming up behind him, closed the distance between herself and the demon Baltazar, silent as a leopard stalking its oblivious prey. Her feet whispered over the dew-kissed grass. So light was her step she may as well have floated across the small field.