By RNStephenson All Rights Reserved ©

Fantasy / Horror


In a modern world a girl has to do what a girl has to do but as one of the world's biggest authors knowing what is right and wrong is just a bottle of whiskey away. Guilt-ridden because of the suicide of a fellow author Diana Arlyn is just about ready to give up to her chronic depression when a new interest comes into her life. That is when the subjects of her Urban Fantasies cannot compare to the life unleashed. Survival might seem simple but when dealing with dark forces even greater than God the future is grim. Not even her medication can make this nightmare go away.

Chapter 1

His fingers pushed through my skull, holding me to the wall. The cold was crushing, freezing all thought as he stopped time. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The room black-iced over; crackling over the bone covered floor. The walls, the ceiling became an impenetrable night sky. Bones turned onyx. Aza’zel wanted information. We were in a secret room, a killing room long forgotten to history.

“Who has it?”

“The icon?”

“No. The book.”

“I haven’t found it yet.” His snake-like fingers dug deeper, searching for the truth. I could hide things in my mind, but not everything.

It was a mistake to write the book. A mistake to entrust it to Uri. Aza’zel had made me, that should have been enough.

“Do a casting, find this book or you will be flung like a stone into the Abad. And bring me that urn!”

He withdrew, and I collapsed forward. On hands and knees, I fought for breath. He fractured and dropped into the bones, a crash like glass on stone. The cold lifted, I drew back as a shadow shifts across a wall. I had followed Sarina since the day I was resurrected into the dark, but now I had her and the book to act upon. Castings were not perfect, nor were they ideal; too much could go wrong or be misleading. I had little choice. He knew of the book; he was not patient.

Pacing the room, I built a dream, thick with promise, glowing with light. It would find who I wanted, but it would not lead me to them. I cast, let it flow into the skeins of night. It would take time, perhaps more time than I deserved.

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Further Recommendations

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