Like an amateur documentarian, I spoke to the camera: “Maiden voyage into the attic at Idlewood. Today is February 4th. This is Rachel Kowalski recording.”
Rachel Kowalski recording, something whispered back. My back straightened, and the fine hairs on my arms lifted as if to alert me to the presence of someone or something unseen.
I froze and said, “Hello?” I was happy to hear my voice and my voice alone echo back to me.
Hello?
About The Ghosts of Idlewood
When a team of historians takes on the task of restoring the Idlewood plantation to its former glory, they discover there’s more to the moldering old home than meets the eye. The long-dead Ferguson children don’t seem to know they’re dead. A mysterious clock, a devilish fog and the Shadow Man add to the supernatural tension that begins to build in the house. Lead historian Carrie Jo Stuart and her assistant Rachel must use their special abilities to get to the bottom of the many mysteries that the house holds.
Detra Ann and Henri get a reality check, of the supernatural kind, and Deidre Jardine finally comes face to face with the past.
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From The Tale of Nefret
Clapping my hands three times, I smiled, amused at the half-dozen pairs of dark eyes that watched me entranced with every word and movement I made. “And then she crept up to the rock door and clapped her hands again…” Clap, clap, clap. The children squealed with delight as I weaved my story. This was one of their favorites, The Story of Mahara, about an adventurous queen who constantly fought magical creatures to win back her clan’s stolen treasures.
“Mahara crouched down as low as she could.” I demonstrated, squatting as low as I could in the tent. “She knew that the serpent could only see her if she stood up tall, for he had very poor eyesight. If she was going to steal back the jewel, she would have to crawl her way into the den, just as the serpent opened the door. She was terrified, but the words of her mother rang in her ears: ‘Please, Mahara! Bring back our treasures and restore our honor!’”
I crawled around, pretending to be Mahara. The children giggled. “Now Mahara had to be very quiet. The bones of a hundred warriors lay in the serpent’s cave. One wrong move and that old snake would see her and…catch her!” I grabbed at a nearby child, who screamed in surprise. Before I could finish my tale, Pah entered our tent, a look of disgust on her face.
“What is this? Must our tent now become a playground? Out! All of you, out! Today is a special day, and we have to get ready.”
The children complained loudly, “We want to hear Nefret’s story! Can’t we stay a little longer?”
Pah shook her head, and her long, straight hair shimmered. “Out! Now!” she scolded the spokesman for the group.
“Run along. There will be time for stories later,” I promised them.
As the heavy curtain fell behind them, I gave Pah an unhappy look. She simply shook her head. “You shouldn’t make promises that you may not be able to keep, Nefret. You do not know what the future holds.”
“Why must you treat them so? They are only children!” I set about dressing for the day. Today we were to dress simply with an aba—a sleeveless coat and trousers. I chose green as my color, and Pah wore blue. I cinched the aba at the waist with a thick leather belt. I wore my hair in a long braid. My fingers trembled as I cinched it with a small bit of cloth.
“Well, if nothing else, you’ll be queen of the children, Nefret.”
About The Tale of Nefret
Twin daughters of an ancient Bedouin king struggle under the weight of an ominous prophecy that threatens to divide them forever. Royal sibling rivalry explodes as the young women realize that they must fight for their future and for the love of Alexio, the man they both love. The Tale of Nefret chronicles their lives as they travel in two different directions. One sister becomes the leader of the Meshwesh while the other travels to Egypt as an unwilling gift to Pharaoh.
More from M. L. Bullock
From The Mermaid’s Gift
Dauphin Island had more than its share of weirdness—a fact illustrated by tomorrow’s Mullet Toss—but it was home to me. It wasn’t as popular as nearby Sand Island or Frenchman Bay, and we islanders clung to our small-town identity like it was a badge of honor. Almost unanimously, islanders refused to succumb to the pressure of beach developers and big-city politicians who occasionally visited our pristine stretches of sand with dollar signs in their eyes. No matter how they sweet-talked the town elders, they left unsatisfied time and time again, with the exception of a lone tower of condominiums that stood awkwardly in the center of the island. As someone said recently at our monthly town meeting, “We don’t need all that hoopla.” That seemed to be the general sense of things, and although I valued what they were trying to preserve, I didn’t always agree with my fellow business owners and residents. Still, I was just Nike Augustine, the girl with a weird name and a love for french fries but most notably the granddaughter of the late Jack Augustine, respected one-time mayor of Dauphin Island. What did I know? I was too young to appreciate the importance of protecting our sheltered island. Or so I had been told. So island folk such as myself made the bulk of our money during spring break and the Deep Sea Fishing Rodeo in July. It was enough to make a girl nuts.
But despite this prime example of narrow-mindedness, I fit in here. Along with all the oddities like the island clock that never worked properly, the abandoned lighthouse that everyone believed was haunted and the fake purple shark that hung outside my grandfather’s souvenir shop. I reminded myself of that when the overwhelming desire to wander overtook me, as it threatened to do today and had done most days recently. I had even begun to dream of diving into the ocean and swimming as far down as I could. Pretty crazy since I feared the water, or more specifically what swam hidden in the darkness. Another Nike eccentricity. Only my grandfather understood my reluctance, but he was no longer here to tell me I wasn’t crazy. My fear of water separated me from my friends, who practically lived in or on the waters of the Gulf of Mexico or the Mobile Bay most of the year.
Meandering down the aisles of the souvenir shop, I stopped occasionally to turn a glass dolphin and rearrange a few baskets of dusty shells. I halfheartedly slapped the shelves with my dust rag and glanced at the clock again and again until finally the shark-tooth-tipped hands hit five o’clock. With a bored sigh, I walked to the door, turned the sign to Closed and flicked off the neon sign that glowed: “Shipwreck Souvenirs.” I’d keep longer hours when spring break began, but for now it was 9 to 5.
I walked to the storeroom to retrieve the straw broom. I had to pay homage to tradition and make a quick pass over the chipped floor. I’d had barely any traffic today, just a few landlubbers hoping to avoid the spring breakers; as many early birds had discovered, the cold Gulf waters weren’t warm enough to frolic in yet. Probably fewer than a dozen people had darkened my door today, and only half of those had the courtesy to buy something. With another sigh, I remembered the annoying child who had rubbed his sticky hands all over the inflatables before announcing to the world that he had to pee. I thanked my Lucky Stars that I didn’t have kids. But then again, I would need a boyfriend or husband for that, right?
Oh, yeah. I get to clean the toilets, too.
I wondered what the little miscreant had left behind for me in the tiny bathroom. No sense in griping about it. It was me or no one. I wouldn’t be hiring any help anytime soon. I grabbed the broom and turned to take care of the task at hand when I heard a suspicious sound that made me pause.
Someone was near the back door, rattling through the garbage cans. I could hear the metal lid banging on the ground. Might be a cat or dog, but it might also be Dauphin Island’s latest homeless resident. We had a few, but this lost soul tugged at my heartstrings. I had never seen a woman without a place to live. So far she had refused to tell me her name or speak to me at all. Perhaps she was hard of hearing too? Whatever the case, it sounded as if she weren’t above diggi
ng through my trash cans. Which meant even more work for me. “Hey,” I called through the door, hoping to stop her before she destroyed it.
I had remembered her today as I was eating my lunch. I saved her half of my club sandwich. I had hoped I could tempt her to talk to me, but as if she knew what I had planned, she’d made herself scarce. Until now.
I slung the door open, and the blinds crashed into the mauve-painted wall. Nobody was there, but a torn bag of trash lay on the ground. I yelled in the direction of the cans, “Hey! You don’t have to tear up the garbage! I have food for you. Are you hungry?”
I might as well have been talking to the dolphins that splashed offshore. Nobody answered me. “I know you’re there! I just heard you in my trash. Come out, lady. I won’t hurt you.” Still nobody answered. I heard a sound like a low growl coming from the side of my store.
What the heck was that?
Immediately I felt my adrenaline surge. Danger stalked close. I ran to the back wall of my shop and flattened myself against the rough wood. I heard the growl again. Was that a possum? Gator? Rabies-crazed homeless lady? I knew I shouldn’t have started binge-watching The Walking Dead this week. There was absolutely nothing wrong with my imagination. My mind reeled with the possibilities. After a few seconds I quietly reasoned with myself. I didn’t have time for this. Time to face the beast—whatever it might be.
About The Mermaid’s Gift
Nike Augustine isn’t your average girl next door. She’s a spunky siren but, thanks to a memory loss, doesn’t know it—yet. By day, she runs a souvenir shop on Dauphin Island off the coast of Alabama, but a chance encounter opens her eyes to the supernatural creatures that call the island home, including a mermaid, a fallen goddess and a host of other beings. When an old enemy appears and attempts to breach the Sirens Gate, Nike and her friends must take to the water to prevent the resurrection of a long-dead relative…but the cost might be too high.
To make matters worse, Nike has to choose between longtime crush, Officer Cruise Castille and Ramara, a handsome supernaturate who has proven he’s willing to lose everything—including his powers—for the woman he loves.
Read more from M.L. Bullock
The Seven Sisters Series
Seven Sisters
Moonlight Falls on Seven Sisters
Shadows Stir at Seven Sisters
The Stars that Fell
The Stars We Walked Upon
The Sun Rises Over Seven Sisters
The Idlewood Series
The Ghosts of Idlewood
Dreams of Idlewood
The Whispering Saint
The Haunted Child (forthcoming)
The Heart of Idlewood (forthcoming)
Return to Seven Sisters
(A Forthcoming Sequel Series to Seven Sisters)
The Roses of Mobile
A Garden of Thorns
All the Summer Roses
Blooms Torn Asunder
A Final Wreath of Roses
Cotton City Antiques
(A Forthcoming Seven Sisters Spinoff Series)
A Voice from Her Past
The Haunted Letter
Henri’s Ghost Light
Missing Time in Mobile
Phantom Photos of Tomorrow
The Weeping of Angels
Gulf Coast Paranormal
(A Forthcoming Seven Sisters Spinoff Series)
The Ghosts of Kali Oka Road
A Haunting on Bloodgood Row
The Ghosts of the Crescent Theater
The Fairview Ghost Lights
The Ghost of Gabrielle Bonet
Storm Castle Series (forthcoming)
The Haunting of Joanna Storm
The Disappearance of Joanna Storm
The Ghost of Joanna Storm
The Desert Queen Series
The Tale of Nefret
The Falcon Rises
The Kingdom of Nefertiti
The Song of the Bee-Eater
The Sugar Hill Series
Wife of the Left Hand
Fire on the Ramparts
Blood by Candlelight (forthcoming)
The Starlight Ball (forthcoming)
Athena’s Revenge (forthcoming)
The Sirens Gate Series
The Mermaid’s Gift
The Blood Feud
The Wrath of Minerva
The Lorelei Curse (forthcoming)
The Island Jinx (forthcoming)
The Fortunate Star (forthcoming)
The Southern Gothic Series
Being with Beau
Connect with M.L Bullock on Facebook. To receive updates on her latest releases, visit her website at M.L. Bullock and subscribe to her mailing list.
About the Author
Author of the best-selling Seven Sisters series and the Desert Queen series, M.L. Bullock has been storytelling since she was a child. A student of archaeology, she loves weaving stories that feature her favorite historical characters—including Nefertiti. She currently lives on the Gulf Coast with her family but travels frequently to exotic locations around the globe.
Fire on the Ramparts (Sugar Hill Book 2) Page 18