No rest for the Wiccan...
Publication Date: June 2015
Genre: Supernatural Thriller
Series: Zoe Delante Crime Series #2
No rest for the Wiccan.
One year has passed since Zoë Delante’s last big case, and everyone’s favorite Wiccan has managed to carve a normal-ish life for herself and her boyfriends, Jacob and Daniel. Then she gets the call that someone has discarded dead babies like empty soda cans off I-295 in the Baltimore/D.C. area, leaving strange scales all over the crime scenes. Another serial killer?
Zoë dives into the case when her one-year-old niece comes up missing, and she discovers that the guy running the Church of Holy Light knows magick and lies about it. Is he the one behind the mind control? Did he send the guys to drop magick all over her sister’s house?
And what the hell is up with her magick?
The visions are getting stronger, and weirder, and Zoë can’t remember the last time she slept. No matter. She has bad guys to catch and innocents to save. She’ll sleep when she’s dead….
…Or when the killer is.
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Excerpt
“Get out of the house, Zoë. Lucy, get her out of here!”
Lucy grabbed my arm, but I shook her off. “No, goddamit, I’m
not leaving you!”
The pulse grew faster, and my brain spun with possibilities.
“Zoë, please!” he begged. “This doesn’t have to kill us all.
Save yourself.”
“Not happening,” I said. “Go, Lucy.”
“Zoë, no.” I could hear the anguish in her voice.
I looked at her, and the tears started to fall. “I can save
him. I know I can, but I can’t do it if you stay. I need you to get out. I need
you to tell my neighbors to get out. I don’t know how big this is. If I can’t
do this, I want to avoid collateral damage.” I grabbed her hand. “Please, Lucy,
I can’t leave him. I won’t. If I don’t at least try....”
She wiped her own tears away and hugged me. “Be careful.
Please come out of this alive.”
I forced a small smile. “I’ll do my best. Now go.”
She nodded, grabbed her purse, and sprinted out of the house
with her cell phone to her ear.
One thing down.
I moved a foot, and the lines moved with me. So much for
leaving. I knelt down and touched them with my fingers, and sensed a definite
electric thrum in tandem with the pulse. “How much time do you think we have?”
“Stubborn woman,” he growled. “Save yourself. If I dared to
move, I’d throw your ass out of the house.”
“You heard me tell Luce that I wasn’t leaving you. I’m not
fucking kidding about that. We’re going to walk out of this house together, do
you hear me? So I need you to answer my damn question.”
“Zoë.” His soft tone evoked memories of quiet moments in
bed. “Look at me.”
I shook my head, eyes locked on the nastiness between us. “I
can’t.” My voice broke, and I swallowed hard. “I need to do this. I know I can
do this, but if I look at you right now, I’m going to fall apart.”
He didn’t respond.
I poured a little magick onto the lines. They absorbed it as
if it were nothing, but I could feel it push through the length, and I saw that
Jacob was right—the size was deceptive. There were at least three layers to the
spell, and with a mind-blowing intricacy.
I bit back a cry. We were going to die.
“Ten minutes.”
“Huh?” I looked up without thinking, and his blue eyes
caught me. My chin quivered, and I brushed away more tears. “I’m sorry, I
didn’t hear you.”
Jacob smiled. “We have ten minutes, and I’m being generous.
You saw it, the complexity?”
Yes, let’s talk about
the problem and not the inevitability of our deaths. I nodded. “Yeah, it’s
nasty, but I think....” I passed a hand over it, and the layers spread out like
a six-lane highway. “It’s kind of like those action movie bomb sequences. We
just have to figure out which wire to cut.”
Jacob studied it for a minute, but in that silence I
considered the spell. Maybe it was the tragic circumstances, but I realized
then that I loved him—really loved
him—and the idea of a life without him broke my heart into tiny little shards
that made it hurt to breathe.
“I choose you,” I whispered, wishing for all the world that
I could touch him one last time.
He looked up from the lines, and with tears in his eyes,
replied, “I know.”
Writing came to me naturally, and the dark clouds of childhood and adolescent angst gave birth to a myriad of story threads that reflected my inner struggle to find a place in this world. I haven’t quite discovered it yet, but I’ve fallen in love with the journey and all the stories unfolding in front of me. I’m a lover of many genres and a writer of a small handful, and rather content with that lot.
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