by D. D. Chance
“It’s from Liam,” he confirmed. “He’s made it inside Bellamy Chapel and…”
He stopped short. His eyes arrowed down to his screen, as if he couldn’t make out the words.
“What?” Zach and I asked at once, and Tyler looked up at me, his face drawn tight.
“And the first thing he found was a headstone, down in the undercroft of the church.” He turned the phone to me, and Zach’s arm tightened around my shoulders as we saw the picture it held.
A small, elegant marble slab, with a boldly cut name etched across the top:
JANET CROSS.
The date on the stone was twenty-four years ago.
“Wait, what? I mean, that’s got to be someone else, right?” I heard myself speak as if from far away, as Tyler swiveled the phone back, the three telltale dots springing up as Liam kept typing.
“If there’s more, he’ll find it,” he said quietly. His gaze sharpened again. He swallowed, then glanced up at me. “There’s more, he says. You should probably get over there.”
Zach’s hold firmed on my shoulders. Tyler shoved his phone in his pocket and picked up my hands.
“Hey,” Tyler said, and the urgency in his voice made me glance up. His gaze was solid, assured—and it felt, more and more, like coming home. “We’re here for you, Nina. No matter what Liam’s found, I swear it. Zach and I know a little about having shit for family relationships. There’s no way it could be worse than we’ve gone through, right?”
I smiled and nodded as Zach held me close, the trees shushing around us as the twin effects of Tyler’s touch and Zach’s mental connection swirled and crackled through the night sky. Then the moment passed, and Tyler squeezed my fingers. “We’re your family too, you know. And nothing will get to you without having to go through us, first.”
“I know,” I whispered, as Zach leaned over to brush a kiss against my temple.
“Breathe,” he instructed, and my body responded, my lungs filling with blessed air as Tyler squeezed my hands again, then stepped away. These two guys, already so much a part of my life, had now cemented themselves as allies by my side. I was safe with them. I was strong.
As we turned away from the monster quad to head across campus, however, a long ago cry sounded through the trees, as faint as a blackbird’s call.
“Run…” my mother cried.
Her warning was carried away on the whispering wind, and Zach and I turned, making our dark and solitary way to what remained of Bellamy Chapel.
Thank you so much for reading THE HUNTER’S CURSE! I sincerely hope you enjoyed Nina’s continuing adventure. If you did and you’d like to help other readers find it, I appreciate you leaving a review for the book. For a sneak peek of Liam’s story in THE HUNTER’S SNARE, read on!
THE HUNTER’S SNARE
Monster Hunter Academy, Book 3
Prologue: Liam
What’s a girl want?
I scowled at the rough stone wall six feet from my face, the blood rushing to my head. Strung up like this two stories below ground, locked in a spike-ridden snare that Houdini wouldn’t dare attempt even at the height of his fame, I’d already worked out a half dozen impossible equations in my mind to pass the time. But I always ended up back here.
The life-or-death question I couldn’t ignore. The riddle buried in the puzzle locked within the enigma that was Nina Cross.
Harbinger. Monster bait. Cipher.
The answer to all my deepest desires and biggest fears wrapped up into one completely unexpected package. She’d run into our lives not two weeks ago with a monster on her tail and an entire lifetime of mystery surrounding her very existence. A mother who’d lied to her. A father who’d left her to rot. A power so incredible, she would lose her ever-loving mind if she had any idea of who and what she really was.
But I knew.
I’d read the ancient texts, found the forbidden knowledge. I knew everything there was to know about the harbinger…everything Nina had yet to learn.
And oh, what I could teach her, if I could find a way to tempt her into letting me. Lure her into being willing to reach her full potential. But how?
What’s a girl want?
I blew out a long breath, glancing at the gleaming LED stopwatch on the floor. Four minutes past the official record set by my late, great-uncle Spencer Graham, the family’s most prolific and blindingly rich magician in five generations. He hadn’t been able to endure the suspended magical tourniquet for longer than two minutes and forty-four seconds. I’d blown him away three times over today. He was no longer the boss of me.
Not that anyone would ever know that.
My family had written me off a long time ago—too weak to be a spell caster, too mercurial to be an enforcer, too honest to be a ward for the family secrets, too much of an ass to be a negotiator or diplomat. They’d done everything to improve my chances, to help me live up to the powerful magic that was my birthright. They’d even buried tuning rods beneath my skin to pick up any errant supernatural currents that might be floating around in the atmosphere, but nothing had taken.
I’d remained stunted, muted. My magic, a shrunken husk.
So I’d studied. I’d learned. I’d fashioned tools to pull power out of the air, created concoctions, devices, and weapons of intricate and stunning beauty. And I had suffered. Oh, yeah, I’d suffered.
Then a harbinger had hit Wellington Academy and set my world on fire.
I twisted in my vicious tourniquet, feeling the blades cut deep, swinging in a lazy arc as the blood traced familiar trails down my skin.
What’s a girl want?
As I turned slowly, the trove of glorious Arcanum slid into view, soaking in its pool of oil. It was time, I knew. I’d studied the stolen pages of the Apocrypha long enough. I knew every inscrutable prognostication, every dire warning, every taboo ritual specifically proscribed…yet included in those hoary old texts with slavering glee. I knew everything there was to know, now.
A little knowledge may be a dangerous thing, but too much?
Magic.
I twisted again. With a flick of my fingers, I tripped the nearly invisible metal trigger trapped in the crease of my palm, causing a spark to flare, then drop to the trail of oil. The fire caught immediately, throwing shadows against the wall that made me look like a slowly swinging slab of meat. Not a bad analogy, really, considering how I’d been carved up over the years.
But this wasn’t about me. It was about the tongues of fire that now lanced greedily into the carefully oiled maze. Racing along the snaking lines I’d traced, a complete replica of the Wellington campus map of subterranean byways. I watched with eager eyes to see if this, finally, would reveal the path I needed to take, if this, finally—
But no.
The fire guttered out, dead-ending far short of catching the forbidden pages on fire.
The secrets of the academy would live another day, it seemed. I hadn’t solved the riddle. I hadn’t earned the right. I would need Nina Cross to walk those dire pathways with me blindly, foolishly, if she was willing. If she dared. If she agreed to finally break me free of the trap of my own life.
I contracted my muscles, straining my joints to the max, and breathed out a long, shuddering breath.
What’s a girl want?
I didn’t know…but I would do anything to find out.
Continue the adventure with THE HUNTER’S SNARE, and please visit me on Facebook to say hello!
Most of all, thanks again for reading THE HUNTER’S CURSE!
About D.D. Chance
D.D. Chance is the pen name of Jenn Stark, an award-winning author of paranormal romance, urban fantasy and contemporary romance. Whether she’s writing as Jenn or D.D., she loves writing, magic and unconditional love. Thank you for taking this adventure with her.
www.ddchance.com
Copyright © 2021 by D.D. Chance
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Cover design by B Rose Designz.
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of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
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