Poison and Potions: a Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by Erin Hayes

  Serena rolled her eyes. “Zoey, stop worrying so much,” Serena sighed. “We might be tracking this fucker, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself at least a little, right?”

  “He helped destroy Delilah’s life,” Zoey reminded her. “And he’s still out there, no doubt plotting some attempt to ruin even more lives! I can’t just—”

  “First of all,” Serena stabbed a purple painted fingernail at her, “Delilah took a chance—a ballsy, risky, stupid, and sexy-as-shit chance.” She gave a wink at that, and Zoey could tell she was remembering the VIP visit to the Blue Moon Delilah had invited them all to celebrate both their reopening after the attack and the more secret celebration-slash-mourning of Ezra’s death and the packmates Delilah had lost. They’d been pretty understaffed, but not so much that Delilah didn’t treat Zoey and Serena to a private dance from one of their male strippers. Though it was an uncomfortable moment for her, Zoey at least learned that Isaac was above average among his already sizable species. Serena had gone through about six-hundred dollars in singles, most of which was littering the floor of the room by the time they were done. By some strange miracle Zoey had been able to keep Serena’s hands to herself, something that Zane was still thanking her for. “And while I’ll always hold a special place in my heart for that awesome, furry bitch, a chance is still a chance and she learned the hard way that being a leader isn’t always horse-dicks and fancy drinks, kay? What happened to her WAS NOT your fault! But if you hadn’t been there it could have been worse; A LOT worse! And besides, word of her ‘revolutionary approach’”—she air quoted the words and rolled her eyes—“is still bringing new packmates around. And get this: she’s even taking in vampires now. Care to guess who inspired her to accept that idea? I’ll give you a hint: she mentioned you BY NAME on Facebook! I mean, she didn’t flat-out say it that way—boy, wouldn’t The Council just LOVE that?—but still.”

  Zoey stared. “Facebook? You’re on Facebook? She’s on Facebook? You two are actually friends on Facebook?”

  “Shit yea, bitch! She’s awesome! And get with the times already!” Serena stuck out her tongue before tearing open a candy bar and stuffing the whole thing in her mouth. Before she was even done chewing she went on, saying, “Anyway… B—wait, had I said ‘first’ or ‘A’? Either way, next point: I’ve had harder times chasing my kid than this Jerrick cock-knob,” she looked over as Gregori shambled back from the front side of the Winnebago, where he’d been sitting with Zane while he drove. “Oh, speak of the little devil!” She tussled his hair and, after planting a kiss on the top of his head, turned back to Zoey. “We’re going to get him. It’s not a question of if or how, it’s just a matter of when. And since we’ve stopped three—fucking three!—of his small-time efforts to take on even small-fry gangs of rogues I hope you’ll pardon me for not feeling he’s an immediate threat.”

  Zoey snatched up another Snickers bar without being offered and began to work on it, suddenly realizing that Serena was, at that moment, at least, the most brilliant person in the world for thinking to get them. “Can you tell me what you found out all the same?” she asked, adding “Pretty please” along with another wide, chocolate-stained smile to show she had lightened up.

  Serena shrugged. “Nothing that you didn’t already predict,” she admitted. “Psycho has been ranting about going after Stryker.” She scoffed and shook her head, “I guess that without Ezra to keep him in line he’s become a regular raving chatterbox. Sources said he was going on about ‘Messiah Aleksander’ and some guy named ‘von Schneizer’ or something whenever he’s not going on about killing Stryker. So I guess at the very least we know where we’re heading, though not in any real hurry, huh?”

  Zoey cocked her head. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Well, obviously your wayward hybrid’s out to get Stryker, and Stryker’s clan is in New England, right?” Serena shrugged, “So we can just meander out that way and enjoy the sights in the meantime.”

  “What are you talking about?” Zoey frowned. “We’ve been on this ‘vacation’ in the guise of work for almost eight weeks and now that we’ve got a solid lead you want to just ‘meander’ there? We should be contacting Xander and telling him—”

  “Let me stop you right there, princess,” Serena held up her hand, “‘cause you clearly don’t follow the news.”

  Zoey stared. “What news?”

  “Stryker just got hitched!” Serena smirked. “The pretty-boy goth found himself some doll-faced witch-turned-bloodsucker and the two were married, like, a day-or-two ago. So there is no point in calling or rushing over there, ‘cause we’ll just be stuck waiting at his clan’s mansion while he and his new bride are off in La-La Land fucking away their honeymoon.” She leaned back, smirking, and folded her arms.

  Zoey considered all that for a moment, glancing back and forth between her and Gregori to make sure that her colorful language hadn’t earned any negative responses. He didn’t even seem to notice. Instead, the little vampire fidgeted with one of the buttons on his shirt.

  Finally, groaning in resignation, Zoey leaned back. “Fine,” she resigned, stealing another ‘Fun Size’ Snickers bar, “let the vacation continue.”

  “There’s my girl!” Serena clapped, cramming another of her own candy bars in her mouth and teasing Gregori with another before finally giving it to him. “And now that that’s all behind us,” she beamed, “I’ve got other big news!”

  Zoey smirked. “Don’t tell me,” she nodded towards her stomach, “You’re pregnant again.”

  Serena’s shoulders slumped and she pouted. “How’d you know?” she whined.

  “You mean aside from the fact that you haven’t been drinking in almost a month-and-a-half and that you’ve been eating candy bars like you breathe air?” Zoey laughed. “So I guess you and Zane didn’t have enough with just Gregori on your plate, hmm?”

  “Guess not,” Serena giggled. “And now this one’s going to have a little brother or sister to torture him just like he’s torturing us!”

  “I’m not sure it works like that,” Zoey laughed.

  “Oh no?” Serena’s voice faded as she called out to her son: “Hey, Greg! Tell Aunt Zoe what a little terror you’re going to be to your new brother or sister!”

  Gregori looked up and frowned at that. “No! I’m’a be a gud brotha’!” he announced proudly. “Da best, actuawwy!”

  “Well would ya look at that?” Serena beamed. “Happy as a pig in shit! And don’t worry about the mush-mouth thing; the little guy’s big-boy fangs are starting to come in!” Serena boasted, “But they’re a bit big for his little peanut head still, so he’s been talkin’ kinda funny for almost a week. Kinda sounds like me when I’m going down on—”

  “Serena!” Zoey stopped her, giving her a glare. “Try to have some filter in front of your son, please!”

  Serena blushed and looked back at Gregori, smiling warmly at him. “Right, sorry,” she said, voice sincere as she thumped the side of her head. I… uh, I sometimes forget how to be a mommy, y’know?”

  “It’s okay,” Zoey assured her, patting her on the arm. “You’re surprisingly good at it. Even if you do have a foul mouth.”

  “Blame Zane for that,” Serena shrugged, smirking. “Y’know, I was a good little Christian girl before him. Was even in the choir and had all my V-cards perfectly intact. I was a good little girl ‘til that vulgar, perverted lunatic showed up with his curse and too-cute-to-say-‘no’ butt.”

  “Ew!” Gregori sneered and hurried away.

  Serena stared after him, shocked, for a long moment before calling out, “EVERYTHING YOU’VE HEARD ME SAY AND THAT’S WHERE YOU DRAW THE LINE? YOU’RE A WEIRD KID, GREG; A REAL WEIRD KID!”

  Zoey laughed and, halfway through resenting the growing ache in her gut, she realized how much she was enjoying herself. “Oh my… What would I do without you?”

  “Probably swallow a shotgun barrel out of boredom. I don’t know, really. It’s a nightmarish t
hought that keeps me up at night, honestly.” More laughter was shared at that, stopping only when Serena snatched up more candy. “Fucking Christ! I think this one’s going to be worse than Gregori! Cravings are even more fucked up…” she sighed, cramming both bars in her mouth at once.

  “Well, at least I know I won’t be bored,” Zoey smirked, taking another bar for herself but holding back on eating it.

  Serena dipped her head and grinned. “I see some sincerity in that smile,” she sang, “is somebody finally taking a pair of tongs to that uptight-bug that’s been scurrying about in your butt?”

  Laughing, Zoey gave a shrug and nodded, finally eating the candy bar and, seeing there was only one left, raced Serena for it.

  Her blue aura beat Serena’s purple one to the candy.

  “Yea,” Zoey held up her prize as though to illustrate a point, “I guess I am.”

  And it was the truth. Though a distant part of herself—a part she’d finally gotten to see herself stand over, if even just in a metaphorical sense—wanted to fret about this-and-that, Zoey wouldn’t let herself dwell too long on what was to come. Between the love of a great vampire and the support of some crazy-yet-effective friends, she knew better than to worry too much about it.

  The End

  Read the original series, Scarlet Night, for free online now.

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  About the Authors

  Megan J. Parker lives in upstate New York and is normally found lounging in the writing office with her husband and fellow author, Nathan Squiers. Since the debut of her first novel, Scarlet Night, Megan J. Parker has gained international recognition and has been a bestseller in paranormal romance and dark fantasy. Her first novel, Scarlet Night, also was a runner up for 2013’s Best New Series Award on the blog, Paranormal Craving. In 2017, she became a USA Today bestseller with her title, Dark Melody.

  Nathan Squiers resides in Upstate NY with his wife and fellow author, Megan J. Parker. Nathan is usually found in his writing lair where he is either typing away at his latest work or staring out the window as he plots a new idea in the subspace of his mind. His first series, Crimson Shadow, is a bestseller on Amazon in both Dark Fantasy and Horror categories. Along with that, his Death Metal novel two awards in 2013 for best paranormal thriller and best occult. Nathan Squiers was awarded 2012’s best indie author of the year and has since then been rampaging the literary world with his take on vampires and the paranormal world.

  Read More from Megan J. Parker & Nathan Squiers

  https://www.amazon.com/Megan-J.-Parker/e/B009FV1IA6/

  https://www.amazon.com/Nathan-Squiers/e/B006N3KCMY/

  Origins

  Othala Series Sector 1

  Rebecca Hamilton

  Origins Copyright © 2016 by Rebecca Hamilton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  Using magic was one way to die. It just wasn’t the only way.

  It wasn’t that Adira Chovanek wanted to be a liar and a thief; it’s simply that she wanted to survive. And in Sector One, no one survived when they were a witch.

  Adira learned this at a young age, when she lost her mother to the witch hunters and her father on the run. All she had left of them was a warning: never use magic.

  Unfortunately for Adira, magic was a part of her survival, so instead she settled for her own version of their rule: never get caught using magic.

  As she navigated through the market, her stomach rumbled, reminding her that it had been too long since her last meal. But now was not the time to dwell on her hunger. She needed to stay focused.

  Here she was, at the Sector Capital, in search of cloves blessed by the Regent. Cloves she would use to protect herself from him, ironically enough. They were said to be the most potent form of protection money could buy, and soon, they would be hers, bought with every last coin she had to her name.

  As she neared the center of the marketplace, she spotted the Regent’s official dispensary. Not that anyone could miss it. It was the only kiosk that stood on a large circular runestone embedded into the ground. This one was different from the runes around the sector that protected them from the Ravagers; this was the Regent’s personal creation: a large, glowing blue circle with other blue circles inside and centered along the outermost ring in uneven, overlapping pattern.

  Adira had seen what this particular runestone could do. She had seen the lives it had taken, and many of them more valuable than her own. It was why she only came here when she absolutely had to—when her protection spells were so close to wearing off that the idea of certain death was enough for her to face the potential of the same.

  That was why she stepped in line. Why she didn’t even flinch as she shuffled into the first glowing blue ring of the Regent’s marketplace runestone. Why she kept her face a stony mask and waited her turn, one person after the next, until she herself had to face one of the guards who ran the kiosk.

  “Name,” the guard on the other side of the counter said.

  “Mishka,” she said evenly, not wavering in her lie. It was the same fake name she used every time. “I need some cloves blessed by the Regent, please.”

  The guard tilted up his chin, his expression unreadable.

  She wasn’t sure if the pain radiating through her stomach was from hunger or anxiety, but she took a slow, quiet breath, trying to quell it either way, then emptied the coins from her satchel onto the counter.

  “Will this be enough?” Adira asked. “It’s all I have.”

  For a long moment, the Guard looked down his nose at her, then he swept the coins into his palm, inspected them, and placed them in his own satchel.

  “Sorry. No cloves today.”

  Tears sprung to her eyes, but she bit back the words that threatened to tumble from her lips. Arguing with a guard while standing on the Regent’s marketplace runestone was perhaps the most foolish thing she could do in this situation. But she had to say something. That was every last penny she had.

  The guard could kill her, but without those cloves, she was as good as dead anyway.

  She sidled closer to the kiosk and pressed up onto her toes. “I think there’s a little left right there,” she said, tapping the glass display and pointing to the cloves. “Please?”

  Another guard came to the side of the first one, a good foot taller and with a chest twice as broad and biceps that would rival anyone in the Regent’s army. Both men wore only pants, which was the standard of the Guard, but this second man would have been impossible to miss either way, every muscle from his chest all the way...down…was defined, enhanced by a golden tan and the gleam of perspiration.

  As Adira’s gaze lifted to his face, her heart stuttered in her chest. The intensity in his eyes was enough to spark a fire in Adira’s stomach, but it was the way her nipples hardened beneath her clothes that warmed her cheeks. Suddenly, a different kind of hunger rivaled that of her stomach.

  “Is everything all right here?” he asked, his arms crossed and his stance wide.

  She couldn’t tell if he was asking her or the other guard.

  “She wants cloves,” said the first guard.

  The second guard stared down at her. “What for?”

  As his biceps flexed again, Adira saw the mark. The same symbol that was on the ground beneath her feet was tattooed on the second guard’s arm. Which could only mean…

  He’s a Witch Hunter.

  So much for market day being busy enough not to draw attention to herself.

  She swallowed, forcing herself to hold his gaze despite every instinct to turn and run. “For protection, of course,” she said, then added, “the way only the Regent can protect us.”

  Of course, any
cloves would do for the protection enchantments she cast, but since she was trying to cloak herself from the Regent himself, it only made sense to use cloves blessed by his magic to do so. After all, he was the most powerful witch in Sector One.

  As a man, Regent Dvorak didn’t have to fear being found out for his magic, but that same luxury was not afforded to Adira, who needed to pretend these cloves would sit on a windowsill, doing magic all on their own, and not as part of some bigger spell.

  The second guard’s gaze weighed on her. Finally, he said, “It’s fine. Give her the cloves, but nothing else.”

  As he walked off, Adira’s gaze trailed after him. Such beauty, she would never know. She could never be intimate with anyone, let alone a Witch Hunter. Not if she wanted to live.

  “I said here,” came the disgruntled voice of the first guard.

  When she returned her attention to him, he shoved a small pouch of cloves into her face.

  She took them and dropped them into her satchel. “Thank you.”

  The man glowered. “You’re holding up the line. Go.”

  Adira ducked her head, turned on her heel, and hurried into the crowd, wishing she could melt into the mass of people and disappear. As she wove back through the outskirts of the marketplace, her stomach rumbled again.

  It was a long hike home to make on an empty stomach, and not much food to return to. But she’d spent all of her…collection…at the Regent’s kiosk. She had nothing left to barter with, and the Sector Capital was the worst place for her to test her abilities as a thief. She was more of a ‘sneak in when no one was home and lift what they won’t notice’ kind of gal.

  This was the life she was destined for, and the people in the Capital weren’t especially known for their kindness toward beggars and thieves. But when you spent your life hiding who and what you are, you often end up an outcast—which was still better than being dead.