by Ani Gonzalez
Claire filed that information for future reference as she drove out of the parking lot. She had no idea how old Pookie actually was, but this comment would date him back to at least early Medieval times.
"The last time they had a fancy looking stone with nice carvings," Pookie scoffed. "This is frankly offensive."
"The evil minion quality index has gone down, I know."
But Pookie was right. This was the same strategy used in the Kensington Runestone. Build an artifact that looks fake and put the correct inscriptions on it. Most people won't believe in it, but a few will and they'll follow the instructions...
And all hell will break lose.
Literally.
The creature created by the Runestone had killed most of her family in the 1900s.
What would this one do?
"Octomicron Press?" Pookie snorted. "Could they get a little more Cthulian? At least the tentacle logo is nicely symmetric."
"I'm glad it meets with your approval."
The Chihuahua ignored her sarcasm. "They're going full Lovecraft, aren't they? You know what they say..."
Claire sighed. "Never go full Lovecraft. Yes, you've told me many times."
Her response was greeted by silence. The sun had set and she now drove through a dark, deserted country road.
There was no moon, but there were a few stars out, and the hearse's headlamps hit the trees that lined the road, creating creepy shadows. The setting was appropriately spooky.
Thankfully, there were no tentacles.
But there would be. That's what the book meant.
And what was she going to do about that? She was a necromancer—not even that, a necroscope really, someone who talked to the dead. What was she supposed to do about Old Ones and transdimensional demons and crap like that? Chat them into submission?
"I asked Caine to check them out for me," she said lamely.
"Oh, well," Pookie sneered. "In that case we have nothing to worry about."
"Now be nice," Claire replied. "The PRoVE guys can be very helpful. "
Pookie snorted. "Depends on your definition of helpful. The military mindset can be very limited."
"That's unfair. You have to admit they've done something pretty remarkable here, protecting the town. They brought in three witches and repaired the protections around the firehouse and Lavender House. Now that the library will be up to date, the town will be much stronger."
Pookie's lip curved. "PRoVe didn't do that. You know that as well as I do."
Claire fell silent and focused on the black void she was driving through.
The hellhound was right about that too. The town's protections weren't there because of Caine Magnusson and his organization. Mere humans couldn't have done all this, no matter how educated they might be in the mystical.
This had to be—.
Out of nowhere, a silvery human-shaped shadow dashed in front of her vehicle, startling her. She swerved, trying to avoid the man...
Then he vanished.
The hearse stopped.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Pookie asked. "If so, you're going to have to do a better job. I'm sturdier than this, even in my current form."
"Oh, be quiet," Claire muttered, opening the driver's door.
"Wait, where are you going?" Pookie barked. "Are you crazy? Take me with you. Do you have any idea what could be out there?"
"Actually," Claire replied as the cold air hit her face. "I think I do."
She wrapped her fake fur jacket tightly around herself and walked to the impact spot. The taillights flooded the road with light and she squinted, trying to get a clear view of...
Nothing.
There was nothing there.
"Of all the stupid, senseless, dangerous jokes..." She looked up, eyes narrowed. "C'mon out. I know you're out there."
Silence.
"Oh, please," she continued crossly. "Ghost crossing the road is so old. You were pulling that prank back when—"
She didn't finish the sentence. Just thinking about it made something inside her hurt. Not her heart, exactly. That particular organ had toughened up some time ago, but—
"Back when I was alive you mean?"
She turned back toward the car.
A young man leaned against the hood. He had dark hair and light eyes and a smile that was somewhere between mischievous and sad. He was dressed in a black turtleneck and tactical pants, and one could tell by his bearing that he'd been in the military. He looked solid and real, except for a few patches where his outline grew fuzzy.
Wounds. Those were his death wounds.
Afghanistan if she remembered correctly. Some kind of explosive. She could have focused her powers and get a clear look at what he actually looked like, but she chose not to. Thanks to her necromancy he appeared perfectly normal, just a young man leaning against a car hood with a flirty smile on his face.
But Cole Hunt was dead. Very, very dead.
"It's good to see you Claire," he said.
I wish I could say the same. She didn't say that out loud, though. It would have been rude.
"It's good to be back," she said instead.
He laughed, a deep, dark sound that still, after all these years, made shivers run down her spine.
And not the scary ones.
"Liar," he replied. "You couldn't wait to leave this town."
She smiled, somewhat reluctantly. He wasn't wrong. That was the problem with old friends. They knew you too well.
"And neither could you," she replied.
"True," he admitted with a bittersweet twist of his lips. "Didn't turn out that well for me."
She stuck her hands into the pockets of her coat. "You got your friends out."
He smiled. "Yes, I did."
"You were always the protector," she said, now fighting back tears. "Is that why you're back?"
His smile turned into a grin. "Yes, and it's why you're here too."
She nodded. He wasn't wrong about that either.
His eyes hardened. "There's something out there, Claire.
"It's Banshee Creek," Claire replied glibly. "There's always something out there."
Cole's narrowed eyes indicated that he did not appreciate the joke.
"This is worse," he said.
That was a gross understatement. A spasm of hysterical merriment hit her and she found herself laughing.
Cole stared at her, confused. She tried to control the convulsions, but it was impossible. All the stress of the past few days was coming out.
"There it is," she heard Pookie say. "She finally lost it."
"Mock away," Claire coughed out. "But you'd laugh too if you were facing paranormal armageddon with a battered hearse, a hellhound Chihuahua and a ghost soldier as your only troops."
"Actually," Cole said, raising an eyebrow. "I brought friends."
Claire stared as a group of silvery figures appeared on the side of the road. It was quite a motley crew, including a tall sharp-featured woman in an elegant Victorian gown, a teenage girl in modern leggings and a shirt that read The Answer is Always Pie...
And a skinny high school kid with glasses and a confused expression on his face.
Jonas
***
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this story. If you did, I'd love it if you took a moment and left a review. A full list of books is available on my website, www.AniGonzalez.biz. If you join my mailing list you'll get updates on when the next Banshee Creek stories are published and the first two PRoVE novelettes, One Night with the Golden Goddess, One Night in the Mummy's Lair, and One Night in the Chupacabras Ranch, FREE.
And keep an eye out for the first Claire Delacourt book, Hex Marks the Spot! It's coming soon.
Thank you for reading - Ani.
***
Copyright and Disclaimer
Copyright © August 2017, Ani Gonzalez
Cover Art by Ani Gonzalez © April 2017
Copy Edited by EBookEditingPro
Produced in U.S
.A.
Published by Ani Gonzalez
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www.anigonzalez.biz
A Very Merry Witchmas is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to, digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing, without permission in writing from the author.