Panic Room

by Patti Larsen

  INT. – RAY’S APARTMENT BUILDING – NIGHT

  Cici trembled, her insides devouring themselves as the thing Orter planted writhed and grew, battling the controls Simone so carefully built. The pain she could handle. The battle, she was born to fight.

  But, the angry, disdainful fury on Ray’s face when she finally answered her door? That broke Cici like nothing else ever could.

  “Please, Ray,” she breathed, reaching for the beautiful brunette. “Let me in. We need to talk.” She would tell her lover everything. And beg her for help.

  With a lift of her chin and a sneer on her lips, Ray slammed the door in her face. And killed the last thread of Cici’s hope.

  Her phone rang. Without recourse, knowing it was Simone, Cici answered it.

  ***

  INT. – GERRI’S APARTMENT – NIGHT

  Gerri tipped back her beer, staring out over the city, bare feet propped up on the railing of her tiny balcony. She’d mellowed slightly with the intake of alcohol, familiar flavor doing what the drink itself couldn’t anymore. Enough everything seemed less overwhelming for the moment, more manageable.

  He’d taught her to handle anything, hadn’t he, in his own way? And she’d forgotten that lesson. Failed to connect the dots he’d been drawing in her path her whole life. Until now.

  A fresh beer in her hand, Gerri dialed. And, when he answered, she sighed into the phone.

  “Dad,” she said. “Jesus, Dad.”

  ***

  INT. – MAMA ROAN’S TRAILER – NIGHT

  Mama Roan groaned in the dark, her people close around her, supporting her. Someone trickled water between her lips, making her eyelids flutter, brightness too sharp for her old eyes.

  They’d brought her inside, circling her bed, packed tight into her bedroom, the feel of the tribe in her small trailer like a pack of fearful wolves waiting for their leader to falter. She would not. Could not. They needed her, now more than ever.

  “Mama Roan.” He bent over her, his pale face blank, but his eyes showing her all the worry one of his kind could muster. She lifted one twisted hand, touched his flawless cheek with her fingertips.

  “Vampir,” she whispered.

  Benedict kissed her fingers, squeezed gently, healing energy flowing through her, warming and strengthening her. “You old fool,” he said, low and deep. “You should have told me what you were planning. I would have helped you.”

  “No,” she said. “You would have told the Nightshades. And they would have denied me this.”

  Had she done any good, or simply thrown the power of the tribe away in a futile attempt to protect them? Mama Roan allowed the spell to falter, to fall away, feeling for the first time what she’d built.

  And wept in relief. “Safe,” she said.

  Benedict nodded. Was that respect on his handsome, eternal face? “You’ve ensured the tribe will be protected from what is to come,” he said. “It was almost impossible for me to locate you. Not even humans could find this reservation now.”

  She’d asked Toqwai for his help and her god had answered.

  “Now what?” Benedict sat back. “I take it you have more in mind than to put yourself between the Periqwai and the rest of the world?”

  Mama Roan tried to sit up. She had much to do. Benedict sighed, took her hand again, pulled her gently forward as her old bones creaked and complained. She’d abused her body for far too long in this casting. And soon she’d pay for it. But, right now, she had one last thing to do.

  “Cici,” she said. “I’ve felt what comes for her.” She shuddered, knowing hate would only slow her down but unable, for a moment, to feel anything but for the dervish who enslaved her granddaughter. “It is necessary?”

  Benedict looked sad, for once. “I trust Margot,” he said. “Though I know you do not.”

  Mama Roan exhaled, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The ripple of relief from the tribe broke over her, a wave of near giddy excitement that flushed her cheeks.

  “I trust you, my friend,” she said. “And, no matter the Nightshade League, the Collective, or the desires of others, the time is coming. And we will be ready.”

  Outside, in the distance, a wolf howled in answer.

  (CUT TO BLACK)

  ###

  Next time on The Nightshade Cases…

  When Gerri’s partner, Detective Jackson Pierce, comes under investigation for a wrongful death, it’s up to her and her friends to exonerate him—as much as it kills her to prove him innocent.

  Look for Episode #12: Bad Shoot, coming soon!

  Bad Shoot

  Sicko

  Federali

  Witness

  The Hit

  Mimic

  The Maze

  Haunted

  Splish Splash

  Divided We Stand

  Don’t miss a single episode of Season One! Sign up for new release emails at http://smarturl.it/PattiLarsenEmail.

  ***

  About the Author

  Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I’m doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I’ve tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), was in an all-girl improv troupe for five glorious years (if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible). I’ve even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker. My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.

  Now with multiple series in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you’ve heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my very patient husband and six massive cats.

  I love-love-love hearing from you! You can reach me (and I promise I’ll message back) at patti@pattilarsen.com. And if you’re eager for your next dose of Patti Larsen books (usually about one release a month) come join my mailing list! All the best up and coming, giveaways, contests and, of course, my observations on the world (aren’t you just dying to know what I think about everything?) all in one place: http://smarturl.it/PattiLarsenEmail.

  And check out all of my books now available (as well as the fun forums where you can connect with other readers) at www.purelyparanormalpress.com.

  Last—but not least!—I hope you enjoyed what you read! Your happiness is my happiness. And I’d love to hear just what you thought. A review where you found this book would mean the world to me—reviews feed writers more than you will ever know. So, loved it (or not so much), your honest review would make my day. Thank you!