Book Title: Dark Rivers (Witchbane #2)
Author: Morgan Brice
Publisher: Darkwind Press
Cover Artist: Lou Harper
Genre/s: Urban Fantasy, MM paranormal romance
Length: approx. 85 000 words
One hundred years ago, a sheriff’s posse killed dark warlock Rhyfel Gremory, but his witch-disciples escaped, and their magic made them nearly immortal. To keep their power, each year one of the witch-disciples kills a descendant of one of the men in the posse, a twelve-year cycle that has cost dozens of lives, including that of Seth Tanner’s brother, Jesse.
Seth uncovers the cycle of ritual killings that feeds the power of the witch-disciples, and he's hell bent on getting vengeance for Jesse and stopping the murders. His fledgling romantic relationship with Evan Malone complicates his mission, but Seth can’t walk away. Seth and Evan are learning to navigate their partnership—as lovers and monster hunters—while they chase the next witch-disciple and avoid attracting the wrong kind of attention.
When the hunt takes Seth and Evan to Pittsburgh on the trail of the next killer, they’ll have to save the intended victim and take down the powerful witch. If the skills they possess and the bond between them isn’t enough, the evil will remain unchallenged, and more people will die...
“If the sun hasn’t set yet, and there’s no moon, where’s that blue glow coming from?”
Clouds covered the sky, blotting out the dull, late-afternoon sun, and the overhead branches dimmed the light even more. Yet beneath the trees, the snow reflected a twilight indigo, and the shadows all around beneath the trees seemed to have grown darker.
Seth wasn’t a medium, and he had no talent for seeing or hearing the dead. But his experiences hunting supernatural creatures attuned him to the presence of things that went bump in the night, and now he was certain that they weren’t alone.
“We mean you no harm,” Seth said to the blue glow and the empty forest around them. “We’re just looking for information about the witch. Can you help us?”
A sparkling haze gradually filled in between the leafless trees, and as it shifted on the wind, Seth thought he saw forms and faces. Evan was already laying down a salt circle around where they stood, reinforcing it with iron filings. Both substances interfered with ghosts’ ability to manifest and sapped their strength to cause harm.
“Seth, look.” Evan pointed toward the hanging tree. Where only moments ago, it had been nothing but bare branches, now, a shadowed form swung slowly, suspended by a rope around its neck, the head tilted at an unnatural angle.
“We’re here to end the killing,” Seth said, forcing himself to look away from the hanged man, pushing back the memories of Jesse’s body, suspended like that, soaked with blood. As if he could guess Seth’s thoughts, Evan placed a hand on Seth’s forearm, grounding him to the here and now. “We want to stop the witch that caused your pain, keep him from hurting anyone else.”
Overhead, a cold wind stirred the branches, and the trees creaked and rattled. Seth shivered as the temperature dropped. Figures now stood amid the headstones in the old cemetery, and their stance suggested that they were ready for a fight.
“Give me something I can use to stop the witch,” Seth begged the ghosts. “He went by many names—Thane. Carmody. Brunrichter. Wiegand. Whatever he called himself—we want to make him stop.”
The wind carried the whispers of spectral voices, and the blue mist roiled with internal energy. Evan yanked off his gloves, then withdrew a small slate writing board and a piece of chalk from the pocket of his parka. As Seth continued to talk to the ghosts, he saw out of the corner of his eye as Evan carefully drew one of the sigils he’d been practicing, a bit of rote magic that was likely to come in handy.
Seth feared they might need to fight their way clear since the ghosts seemed more interested in intimidation than supplying information.
Seth’s eyes widened as he saw movement. An invisible hand traced shaky block letters on a snow-covered embankment beside the road. W-A-T-C-H.
“Watch?” Seth repeated aloud. “Watch out? Watch for something?”
He could feel the press of spirits all around them, and Seth remembered that the ghosts of Blue Mist Road had a reputation for being unfriendly to intruders. Whatever their cryptic message meant, Seth had the feeling they had worn out their welcome.
The mist grew thick around them. Seth realized that the ominous figures from the cemetery had moved closer and that the hanged man was no longer suspended from his noose. He and Evan were safe for the moment within the salt circle, but they were also trapped inside their sanctuary.
“Ready?” Evan asked. He’d been practicing the small magicks that involved drawing arcane symbols and activating them with concentration; those had come more easily to him than the spoken spells Seth had learned. Seth recognized the drawing Evan made on the slate and hoped to hell the banishment sigil worked.
“Go for it,” he said, crossing his fingers.
Evan closed the last line on the sigil and placed his fingertips on the magical symbol, imbuing it with his will and life energy. The drawing flared gold and then white, so bright Seth and Evan had to avert their eyes as a blast wave of light radiated all around them.
When they opened their eyes, the blue mist and the spirits it harbored were gone, as was the writing in the snow.
“Come on,” Seth said, grabbing Evan by the arm and pulling him toward the truck. “Let’s get out of here before they decide to come back.
About the Author
Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more explosions. Look for her other books—Witchbane, Burn (a Witchbane novella #1.5 ), and Badlands.
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