by Ann M. Noser
“Jake, I’m right here-look at me!” I scream.
“And I don’t know what to do about Laura. She’s missing. She disappeared after the gas station and I can’t find her anywhere. I need your help. Please wake up.”
I grab at his arm but my hand sails right through him.
Jake sighs. “I’m guessing Steve’s gone now because you look like yourself again. That asshole. He deserves whatever he gets.”
I jump up and down, hollering. “Why can’t anyone see me?”
“Did you know that my dog, Nani, died? Compared to everything else, maybe that’s not important, but, I swear, she was the best dog ever… Damn it, I wish you’d wake up.”
I stamp my foot. “And I wish you’d notice that I’m standing right here.”
The river glows orange, mirroring the fiery sunset. My mother hovers on the same spot Mike and I entered the river almost one year before.
She wrings her hands. “I’m trying to stay positive, but it’s not easy. I’m supposed to be your cheerleader, encouraging you to come back, but it’s hard for me to pretend that what I say will matter.”
I try to touch her shoulder, but my hand slips right through.
“You’ll either come back to me or not.” Mom lets out a short sob. “It’s not up to me to decide. If it were, both you and your father would be on a boat with me sailing somewhere in the Caribbean and we’d never come back.”
She stares at the rushing water, tears streaming down her face.
I start to cry, too, and I hate crying. “Please stop, Mom. Don’t say anymore. I can’t take it.”
She clears her throat. “I’m sorry you missed your dad’s funeral. I know you would’ve wanted to be there. He loved you so much that he couldn’t bear for you to see him at the end. I love you too, honey. I know we argue, but…”
I close my eyes to block out the pain, but my ears still hear every word.
“Your friends helped with the funeral. Officer Walker was a pallbearer. He looks rough, but he’s healing. His family’s been wonderful ever since you got hurt. His mother’s a fabulous cook. I’m afraid it’s bad for my figure.”
My jaw drops. “Mother Walker invited you to dinner? I hope you finished your peas.” I know she doesn’t hear me, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.
“We had the funeral here in town so I could stay close to you. My friend Susan sang Nothing Compares to You. You know how Dad always liked that song.”
“I hope she didn’t dress like Madonna.”
“I’m sure some people thought it inappropriate, you know, a Sinead O’Connor song in a Catholic funeral, but Father Joe said he’d allow it. He’s such a nice priest.” She delicately blows her nose into a tissue. “Oh, Emma, why won’t you wake up? Things are too hard here without you.”
Mom steps into the river.
“Don’t go in there!” I holler, my feet sinking into the mud. I’m stuck. I can’t move. I struggle until a giant wave washes ashore and drags me out into the rushing river. I thrash and claw for the surface, growing ever more tired.
Finally, I quit fighting and let the river have what it has always wanted.
Me.
hrough half-open eyelids, I watch dust particles sparkle in the sunlight. I can’t see Walker but I can hear him.
“Cheryl, you look exhausted,” he says. “How’re you holding up?”
Mom sighs. “I’m so sick of this hospital.”
What hospital? I turn toward the sound of my mom’s voice. Sunlight blinds me.
Mom’s voice sounds hopeful, but forced. “As you can see, she’s finally showing some signs of life.”
Am I dead again? Ooh, look at those pretty sparkles.
Walker’s footsteps come closer. “Has she said anything yet?”
“Not really.” Mom sighs. “She mumbles sometimes. I can’t make out a word she says.”
“She’ll snap out of it. Emma’s a fighter.”
“I hope you’re right.” Her chair squeaks. “Now that you’re here, I think I’ll take a short break, if you don’t mind. I need some air.”
“Take as much time as you need,” he offers. “I’ll sit with her.”
The door clicks shut. A chair scrapes across the floor.
“Hey, Emma. It’s Walker, recently hired as your mama’s bodyguard. You’ll be happy to know I make twice as much money as before, and even though I didn’t move home my mom’s thrilled with the raise. She likes your mother, actually. And she’s worried about you. Everyone is.”
Sparkles. Pretty sparkles of light. There’s magic in the air.
“Listen. You better wake up soon. If I have to hear that crazy friend of your mother’s sing Wind Beneath My Wings at your bedside one more time, I’ll have to shoot either myself or her. Which one do you suggest?”
So many pretty colors. Just beautiful.
“I’m sure you don’t want to wake up. This is probably the most peace you’ve had all year. But you’re taking too long. Getting lazy. Father Joe thinks you don’t have a good enough reason to wake up.”
“Why don’t we see if he’s right?” The chair scrapes closer. “I was going to wait until you came around to tell you this, but…”
Machines beep. The smell of sanitizer. My arm brushes against cool steel.
But what?
“I hope you’re ready for this…”
For what?
Walker’s breath warms my cheek as he whispers in my ear, “Laura has your Book again.”
My legs are stuck, entwined in the rough sheets. I struggle to escape. The beeping gets faster.
“Emma, can you hear me?” Walker’s voice gets louder. “Laura has your Book of Shadows. It’s hers now.”
My Book. Mine. I kick my feet to loosen the sheets. Blindly, I tug at the tubes in my arms.
Something blocks the pretty sparkles. A shadow.
His shadow.
“Walker?” I whisper.
“Emma?” He squeezes my hand. “Do you want me to get your mom? She left a second ago.”
“No.” The room spins. What’s real? What’s a dream? Where’s my Book?
Wait a minute. I’ve been here before. In this room. With him.
I tremble. “Are you here to tell me that Mike drowned?”
“No.” He pats my arm. “That was a long time ago. Do you remember what happened afterwards?”
Waves roar in my head. Bodies float down the river. Sam and Jake and Mike and Bernard and Steve. That horrible Smiley Face staring down at me from the oak tree. The creepy church ladies and the black crows.
My voice croaks. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
Where is it? I search under the sheets with my free hand, not entirely sure what I’m looking for. My vision blurs every time I move.
“Emma, are you looking for your Book?” he asks.
“Yes.” I force myself to focus on his face. “Where is it?”
Walker holds my gaze. “Laura Cunningham, Jake’s sister, took it again.”
“Wait!” Memories of the gas station come roaring back. “That can’t be true. It was destroyed. This time for real. I saw it. Shadow shot it.”
“Listen to me closely. After you passed out, pages swirled around the room and came flapping toward you like a flock of crows. Somehow the Book melded back together. It was freaky. And I’ve seen freaky before. I know you, remember?”
I slowly nod.
“That’s when Laura snatched it from under your arm and raced out of the store.” Walker clears his throat. “Shadow escaped, too, unfortunately.”
I struggle to sit up straight. “Why didn’t you stop them?”
“Emma, what do you expect? I had a concussion, two broken ribs, and my arms tied behind me. There wasn’t much I could do. Thank God Jake undid the bindings before the other cops arrived, or I would’ve been a laughingstock. Instead I’m some freakin’ hero because of that crazy Phoebe.”
“Phoebe?” My vision goes wonky a
gain. “Is she okay?”
The sparkling lights take over again then vanish, leaving me alone on the dirt road leading up to the Smiley Face tree. Except now there are hundreds of evil faces painted on the tree trunks, all sneering at me.
Laura crouches near the base of a tree, encircled with red candles. Her tattooed arm glows in the candlelight. Dirty tears streak down her pale face. She clenches the Book of Shadows to her chest.
My Book. Mine.
My stomach drops as Shadow approaches. He grabs Laura’s arm and drags her away, her legs splayed out across the dirt behind her.
Her screams float back to me on the night wind, “No! Somebody help me!”
The trees slip out of view.
My heart races and I want to scream.
This isn’t over. It will never be over.
The hospital room comes back into view. I need to focus. Taking deep breaths, my gaze catches on the sparkles in the sunlight. I fight against the fuzziness trying to take over my brain. Don’t let the drugs win. Ignore the sparkles. The sparkles don’t matter. So many things don’t matter.
But some do.
Metal clangs as the bed begins to shake.
My voice trembles. “I did everything I could, and they still won.”
“Emma, can you hear me?” Walker’s blurry face hovers nearby. “You’re okay now. There’s nothing to fear. We’ll help Jake find Laura and get your Book back. And the Cobras didn’t win—you did. The battle’s over.”
I sit up. My vision clears.
I turn to Walker. “Trust me. The battle has only just begun.”
As a responsible author, this is where I should go on for approximately two pages thanking all the other writers, cover artists, beta readers, etc. who helped this book come to life.
I’m not going to do that. Not that I don’t appreciate everyone, but my Mom died the day after Christmas and I’d like to acknowledge all she did for me instead. She read Laura Ingalls Wilder books to me at bedtime. She brought me to the library so often I ran out of new books to read (at least age appropriate ones, but that’s another story). I miss arguing with her about how I should stop wearing black all the time and should wear a nice, collared, buttoned-down white shirt instead. I wonder at her ability to frost cookies so flawlessly, get just the right crispness to chicken, and wrap presents without fighting with the tape. I miss watching Little Women together, shopping at the mall as a team, and watching Mom hug my children so tight they squirmed to get away.
I’ve been missing her for five years, but only now am I allowed to officially grieve.
I’d also like to thank all those (both in the writing community and my family and friends) who have listened to my lamentations all these years. Thanks for easing my pain. You have no idea how very much your kind words have helped me stay afloat.
My advice: love your family while you can, because once they’re gone it’s hard to know if they can really hear you anymore.
Emma Roberts, socially awkward college student and amateur witch, failed to save Mike Carlson from drowning in the Chippewa River. Consumed by guilt, Emma turns to a mysterious Book of Shadows to raise him from a watery grave.
But Mike doesn't come back alone. He brings other dead guys with him—victims of suicide, alcohol, heart attacks, or unsolved murders. Emma delves deeper into her seductive Book of Shadows to resolve several lifetimes' worth of unfinished business.
Emma's growing powers of witchcraft attract the attention of the Smiley Face Killers, a gang who uses rivers to dispose of their victims' bodies. When they steal her Book of Shadows to lure her into their lair, a voice from the past helps Emma refine her witchcraft powers before facing them.
Emma will risk everything to end an evil that began long before she was born—no matter the cost. But there's so much more to lose than her life.
My to-do list dictates that I attempt to cram forty-eight hours of living into a day instead of the usual twenty-four. I’ve chosen a life filled with animals. I train for marathons with my dog, then go to work as a small animal veterinarian, and finish the day by tripping over my pets as I attempt to convince my two unruly children that YES, it really IS time for bed. But I can’t wait until the house is quiet to write; I have to steal moments throughout the day. Ten minutes here, a half hour there, I live within my imagination.
Like all busy American mothers, I multi-task. I work out plot holes during runs. Instead of meditating, I type madly during yoga stretches. I find inspiration in everyday things: an NPR program, a beautiful smile, or a newspaper article on a political theory.
I’d love to have more time to write (and run, read, and sleep), but until I find Hermione Granger’s time turner, I will juggle real life with the half-written stories in my head. Main characters and plot lines intertwine in my cranium, and I need to let my writing weave the tales on paper so I can find out what happens next.
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Of Scions and Men, by Courtney Sloan
(http://bit.ly/1OfSD1E)
Scion Rowan Brady has sold her life, her career and her very blood to the controlling paranormal ruling class of America, all to make sure her kid brother can eat. But juggling her job and duties becomes even tougher when tasked with keeping a contingency of diplomats from getting gnawed on. However, geopolitical babysitting is interrupted by a supernatural serial killer. Now Rowan must rely on her talent and wit to defend the society she despises. As she stumbles into the truth, she becomes the target of not only the killers, but of her own government.
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Medical-school-dropout police detective Richelle Dadd is… well, dead. But that won’t stop her from trying to hold on to her house in a divorce battle with a bitter husband. Or keep her from digging into her own murder, to discover who put the bullet into her heart. And it certainly won’t stand in the way of finding out the reason she’s been reanimated as a zombie assassin, no longer in control of her life.
Richelle will face off against Gypsy shamans, double-crossing ghosts, a partner she can’t trust, and her own undead nature in a journey into the depths of the occult world and out the other side.
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(http://bit.ly/21Bcjl9)
Eighteen-year-old Ashlyn is one interview away from her future when she first sees the demons. She thinks she’s losing her mind, but the truth is far more frightening: she can see into the Darkworld, the home of spirits– and the darkness is staring back. At her new university in the small English village of Blackstone, she meets a hidden group of sorcerers and, for the first time, finds a place where she belongs. But her new life turns dark when she’s targeted by a killer. The demons want something from her, and not everyone is what they appear to be…
The Department of Magic, by Rod Kierkegaard, Jr.
(http://j.mp/16xQgna)
Magic is nothing like it seems in children’s books. It’s dark and bloody and sexual – and requires its own semi-mythical branch of the US Federal Government to safeguard citizens against everpresent supernatural threats.
Join Jasmine Farah and Rocco di Angelo – a pair of wet-behind-the-ears recruits of The Department of Magic – on a nightmare gallop through a world of ghosts, spooks, vampires, and demons, and the minions of South American and Voodoo gods hell-bent on destroying all humanity in the year 2012.
Appetizer:
Book Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Opening
Main Course:
Part One: Ashes to Ashes
Chapter One: Secrets
Chapter Two: Smile! You Just Met a Pagan
Chapter
Three: Love Thy Neighbor
Chapter Four: The Strangling
Chapter Five: Where There's Smoke
Chapter Six: Walker Always Appreciates His Momma
Chapter Seven: A Second Strangling
Chapter Eight: A Date from Hell
Chapter Nine: No More
Chapter Ten: Prisoner in My Own Home
Chapter Eleven: Evidence
Chapter Twelve: Arrest Warrant
Chapter Thirteen: Get Me to the Church in Time
Chapter Fourteen: Speed
Chapter Fifteen: Tempting Fate
Chapter Sixteen: The Sacrifice
Chapter Seventeen: Help
Chapter Eighteen: Mommy Dearest
Chapter Nineteen: Hot Date
Chapter Twenty: Playing with Fire
Part Two: Where There is Darkness, Let Me Bring Light
Chapter Twenty-One: Happily Ever After?
Chapter Twenty-Two: Dinner with the Dead
Chapter Twenty-Three: Switched
Chapter Twenty-Four: Big Boss Man
Chapter Twenty-Five: Professor Parker
Chapter Twenty-Six: Faded Witch
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Where Did They Go
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Ice Cream Fixes Everything... Almost
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Ghost Dancing
Chapter Thirty: Back to Church
Part Three: Thou Shalt Not Steal
Chapter Thirty-One: Lost in Paradise