IMMORTALS series
Dorchester
ISBN TBA
ISBN13 TBA
Release: November 2008
Pre-Order IMMORTALS:Haunting
Random flashes of unearthly light. Ominous messages written on steamy mirrors. Assailants lurking in shadows. Mai’s hallucinations are becoming a little too real - the last one almost killed her. She’s faced ancient demons and rogue vampires, but this kind of dark magic is more powerful than any she’s seen. Mai also senses someone else trying to help her, a dream walker who comes in the night to soothe her fears. And fulfill her wildest fantasies. But who is he? As the danger and desire escalate, Mai is determined to find him—for only together can they stop...THE HAUNTING.
REVIEWS
EXCERPT
The elevator car shuddered as it slowly climbed and Mai Groves had the very vivid image of thick cables, stressed beyond their tolerance, snapping one by one. When the last cable broke, the car would plummet down six stories where the force of impact would crush it like an empty beer can - killing everyone inside, of course.
The ringing of her cell phone intruded on the gruesome day dream and she hurried to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Mai, it’s Tom. Are you all right?”
She glanced around the empty car. “For now, why?”
“Where are you?”
“In an elevator. A really old, really small elevator.” Belatedly, the urgency of her editor’s tone registered. “What’s the matter?”
“So you’re not at your therapist’s?”
“No,” she replied, not bothering to hide the irritation sparked by his question. “I told you last week that I’d stopped seeing him. I’m cured. No more seeing things that aren’t there.” She kept her tone light and wondered if he was buying the “I’m-as-normal-as-the-next-wood-nymph” argument she was trying to sell him.
Ever since she’d helped a coven of witches, four drop-dead gorgeous immortal warriors and a cast of other magical beings take on an ancient demon in a battle that almost destroyed the world, Mai had been having problems. Specifically, she’d been having hallucinations brought on by what her therapist had diagnosed as post traumatic stress syndrome. Mai didn’t think that seeing demons everywhere she looked necessarily meant she was Looney Tunes. After her previous near-Apocalyptic experience, Mai knew that demons looked like everyone else. Of course, the fact that no one else saw them tended to undermine her claim to sanity.
“There was a break-in at your therapist’s office today,” Tom went on. “I was afraid you might have been there at the time.”
“You’re kidding? Is everyone okay?” As a therapist, Ken Barbour was draining, but as a person, Mai liked him well enough.
“No. Dr. Barbour, well, he was found dead at the scene. Shot to death.”
Mai’s heart gave a lurch as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. For a second, she stood there in shock. Finally, she forced her feet to move. Her apartment was down the hall and she automatically started walking toward it. “Do they know who did it?”
“They have suspects – thirty of them. All patients.”
Indignation pierced the shock that had kept her numb up until now. “I hope you’re not suggesting I killed him.”
“No. Of course not, but generally speaking, Dr. Barbour’s patients were – disturbed. The police found patient records strewn about the place so they think one of the patients might have had something to do with the killing.”
Mai didn’t ask Tom how he knew so much about it. She knew he had contacts both on the police force and in each of the television news stations. Besides, even if she asked him, he wouldn’t tell her.
“You all right?” Tom asked after she’d been silent for too long.
“Yeah. It’s just such a shock.”
“I know. Do you have someone you could call to come stay with you?”
Mai bristled at the implication that she was too fragile to deal with this horrible news. “Tom. He was my therapist, not my friend and not my lover. Obviously, I’m upset to learn he’s dead but I don’t need someone to baby-sit me.”
Silence met her words and she heard Tom sigh. “I’m just worried about you,” he said. “I’m ready for my ace reporter to come back to work.”
“Is that why you fired me?”
“Mai, you know I couldn’t keep you on staff when you weren’t writing.”
She sighed. “I know.” She paused. “Speaking of writing - I’m working on a new story.”
“Really? Another one? Are you sure that’s wise after what happened at the training station?”
“Please, Tom. That was ages ago.”
“Mai, it was last week.”
“I told you, I didn’t hear them announce the flash fire demo. When it flashed, I wasn’t prepared. It...startled me.” Actually, it had scared the hell out of her. She’d been instantly transported back to the big battle with the ancient demon – an experience she was already reliving entirely too often in her dreams.
“You almost killed three firemen before they tackled you to the ground. By then, the fire had grown considerably larger than planned.”
“But it all worked out. No one was hurt. They didn’t press charges and I apologized. Plus you got a great story out of it. Happy ending.”
“Only because I made a sizeable contribution to the training station on behalf of the paper.”
Oh. She hadn’t known that, but she sensed he was weakening and she didn’t want to give up. “Listen, I think this story I’m working on now is going to be big.” She patted the folded piece of paper burning a hole in her jeans pocket. It held everything she needed to nail Bill Preston, the mayoral candidate. Her source had been very forthcoming with his information. She only had to piece it all together to make the story of the politician’s involvement with mob boss Tony Perone complete.
“Great. I can’t wait to read it,” he said not sounding excited at all.
“I’ll send it to you when I’m done but now that I’m working freelance, I’ll expect top dollar or I sell it to someone else.”
“I understand.”
They said good-bye and she disconnected the call as she reached her apartment. A story as big as this one needed a hard hitting headline, she thought, her mind still on the article. Preston and Perone: Bed Fellows and Good Fellow? Or maybe... Mayoral Candidate Uses Mob Connections. She knew she had no say in how the headline would read, but it was fun to think about. She might have gone from regular staff reporter to freelance writer, but in terms of growth, she’d come a long way, she thought rummaging for her keys.
There was a time when she wouldn’t have dared do an article of this nature. She would have been afraid of the ramifications. That had been before she’d gone up against an ancient demon to save the world. Almost dying tended to change one’s perspective on things. When one realizes there might be no tomorrow, then today becomes pretty damn important. Mai had always had a zest for living and that hadn’t changed. What had changed was the way she chose to live each of those days.
She no longer spent her work time pursuing light-weight stories and she didn’t spend her personal time pursuing meaningless one-night-stands. Of course, such lifestyle decisions made for many lonely nights.
She unlocked her apartment, thinking how she missed her best friend. Lexi was a witch, werewolf and retired bounty hunter now living in Ravenscroft, the immortal dimension, with her husband and infant son. Not that Mai blamed her for never being in New York City. If Mai were married and had a child, then maybe she...
She cut off the thought as she walked into the kitchen, letting the front door fall shut behind her. She continued on to her study, dropping her purse on the counter as she passed through the kitchen. She flipped on the light switch and the click echoed loudly in the unrelieved darkness of the room.
Damn it, she thought. Burned out bulb. Not wanting to take the time to change it, she continued over to the desk. There, she fumbled with the knob on the lamp, turning it several times before finally leaning over the shade to see why the light wasn’t coming on.
Another burned out bulb. How odd that both would go out on the same day.
The sense that something wasn’t quite right caused the tiny hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. She stood still, making an effort to quiet her breathing so she could listen. From outside came the distant rumble of traffic and people passing from one destination to the next. Mai was barely conscious of it. She was listening for a sound that shouldn’t be there.
Everything seemed normal.
Still feeling a little spooked, she reached over to turn on her laptop – and stopped with her hand still suspended in air. The electrical cord to her phone had been severed, with one short end dangling off the desk while the other lay curled like a snake on top of the carpet.
Her breath caught in her throat. Get a grip, she told herself. There was no one hiding—
A noise drifted to her. The merest whisper of sound over the muted thrum of activity outside. She held her breath and cocked her head, straining to hear; willing the sound to come again; praying it wouldn’t.
It did, sounding suspiciously like footfalls on thick carpet. Tension shot along her nerves. She might have stood with the Immortals and others against an ancient demon a year ago, but Mai was neither a hero nor a fool. She wasn’t waiting around to find out who was there or what they wanted.
Summoning her magic, she closed her eyes and willed herself to The Blood Club, a bar owned and operated by vampire and close friend, Ricco.
She waited for the deafening drone of people to tell her the teleportation had been successful, but heard only her own rapid breathing accompanied by the rustle of fabric. Not that she should have been surprised. Her magic hadn’t been working right ever since the battle a year and a half ago.
A cold fear settled over her as she realized she was alone with her intruder. Just then, the hall light came on. As her gaze shot to the doorway, she caught another whisper of sound. It was followed by the appearance of a masked figure dressed all in black.
He stood silent; filling the doorway so there was no hope for escape.
"What do you want?" She hated the small tremor in her voice. "I have money, in my purse."
"I’m not after money.” His voice sounded harsh and raspy.
When he stepped into the room, she automatically backed up, trying to keep some distance between them. “What do you want?”
“You’ve been asking a lot of questions about something that doesn’t concern you.”
So, her investigation had touched a nerve. That meant she’d really stumbled onto something big. “Who sent you? Preston? Perone? Both?”
“That’s not important. I want the name of your informant and any information he might have given you.”
Part of her wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. “No. Tell your boss I refused and get out of my apartment.
“Not so fast,” he said dryly. “I have a message for you. Forget the story.”
“Fine. You’ve delivered your message. Get out,” she repeated.
“That wasn’t the message. This is.”
Pain exploded in her jaw before she’d even registered his hand moving. Her head snapped to the side and tears sprang to her eyes. The inside of her lower lip split against the edge of her teeth and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. With the room spinning around her, she couldn’t stay on her feet and fell to her knees. She tried to move, tried to crawl away, but couldn’t. Her vision started tunneling and she felt consciousness slipping away.
She wasn’t lucky enough to pass out though. Spitting out the blood filling her mouth, she looked up.
“Name and information.”
Lenny Brown. The name skittered through her head and she fought to keep from blurting it out. How easy it would be to just give it to him. Make him – and the pain - stop. But it was Lenny’s death warrant if she did, so she bit back the words and said nothing. Instead, she thought about revenge. If she could just survive this beating, she would use the paper in her pocket and all the information on it to crucify Preston, because he was behind this. He was the only one with a reputation to protect.
“Start talking,” he demanded when she was quiet too long.
This time she did say it. “Fuck you.”