LENGTH: Full Novel, Four Author Anthology
SENSUALITY: Sensual & Carnal

Cover art (c) Amber Moon 2004
ISBN 1-58608-217-5
Download $6.99
(s&h not included in price)

In the witching hour, anything is possible.... Within these pages, roam through supernatural worlds frightening and erotic, humorous and breathlessly exciting. Mortals take care....

A Pirate's Life by Stephanie Bedwell-Grime: The vampire Adrian must team with beautiful and feisty detective, Kiana Douglas, to hunt a mysterious band of modern day pirates.

Adopt-A-Demon by Ashley Ladd: When Meghan gets into the Halloween spirit and signs up to adopt a demon online, she unwittingly opens the door to a demonic portal ... and releases a very sexy half-demon who claims to be her soul mate.

The Sacrifice by S.A. Martin: Marked for death by Druid decree, Briana flees but is pursued by their most trusted enforcer, Weylyn, who's torn between duty to his people and love for the enchanting woman.

The Seductress by C.H. Scott: Half witch--half mortal, Colette Carmichael needs to avenge the man who took away her powers when he stole her necklace, but it’s through his son, Adrian Robinson where she finds salvation … and pleasure beyond her wildest dreams.

Rating: Contains graphic sexual content; adult language, violence, and paranormal themes.

Read an excerpt from A Pirate's Life:

He slept the deep, featureless sleep of the undead, unbothered by mortal concerns. Outside the summer sun seared the pavement. Inside his lair, blackout curtains cast his loft in impenetrable darkness. From out of the shadows, he heard the shrill ringing of his phone. Adrian rolled over, scattering black satin sheets. Let the machine get it, he thought and pulled the quilted comforter up over his ears. With a beep, his answering machine kicked in.

"Adrian Strachan," his voice mail proclaimed, "is not available...."

Frazier MacAdam's explosive sigh sputtered through the answering machine's tiny speaker. "Look Adrian, I hate to bother you in the middle of the day, but we've got something you ought to have a look at. So, if you're there, will you pick up the phone?"

If Frazier called in the middle of the afternoon, it had to be an emergency. Frazier was the best detective the police force had. With a resigned groan, Adrian groped for the receiver, scattering the mess on his bedside table. Something glass crashed to the floor. He ignored it and wrestled the phone from its cradle.

"What's up?" He got out the two syllables without slurring. His voice sounded thick even to his own ears. His body's sluggishness told him the sun was still well above the horizon. The long days of summer complicated his life in ways mere mortals would never understand.

"Wake you up?"

He tossed the black satin eye mask onto the covers beside him and ran a hand through his blond hair. "It’s the middle of the afternoon, what do you think?"

He forced his brain to work, though every cell in his body screamed for the quiet blankness of sleep. At least until the sun went down. He glanced at the red LED numerals on his bedside clock. Four forty-five p.m. The summer sun wouldn't be setting for almost five hours.

"We've found another cruiser dead in the water."

Okay … that was unusual, but not supernatural. Certainly nothing that required his particular expertise. "Where?"

"Washed up on the shore of Ontario Place."

Couldn't find a more conspicuous spot than a waterfront tourist attraction in summer, Adrian thought darkly.

"You still there?"

"Yeah, Frazier. Still half asleep."

"Well, wake up. This one's got a body floating in it. A couple of pleasure boaters saw it floating out by the Islands. Current dragged it up on the beach by Cinesphere."

Still, there had to be more to it. Frazier wouldn’t have bothered him for a routine murder. "And?"

"The body’s been completely drained of blood."

Now he was awake. Adrian sat up. He threw off the rumpled covers and kicked aside the pile of clothes he’d left on the floor when he went to bed that morning. His mind raced ahead. Only one kind of creature drained a body of blood. "Neck wounds?" he asked Frazier.

"Yeah," the detective answered. "Two. Right over the jugular."

Now that was unusual. His kind went to great lengths to conceal their existence. No one he knew would be so bold.

"…and with Kiana off on holiday," Frazier was saying, "and Yorgason taking a bullet, we're a little short staffed. I could really use your expert advice."

Adrian rubbed a hand across his eyes, willing his sparsely decorated loft into focus. "Okay, I'll be right there."

"Knew I could count on you," Frazier said with relief. "But since it’s the middle of the afternoon, how exactly are you going to do this?"

"Give me half an hour, I’ll have something figured out by then."

Somehow, in the middle of a sunny afternoon, he had to get to Ontario Place. He didn’t relish the thought of explaining to a cab driver that he wanted to ride downtown in the trunk of the car. But it was either that, or trust that the thin coating of that new zinc paste he’d been experimenting with would stop him from turning into a man-sized torch at the first ray of sun.

Nowadays, sometimes weeks passed when he could almost believe he was human. Until he hit upon a complication as simple as sunshine.

"Days like this, I really hate being a vampire," he muttered to himself. Moira had never warned him there'd be days like this. But then, Moira had never been known to concern herself with the affairs of mortals.

Truth be told, neither had he. Once he had reveled in his vampiric nature, lurking in the darkness, living off humans like so much cattle. During his long life he’d committed atrocities too numerous to count. He would have been happy to continue his reign of terror, but an unlikely rescuer had put him on the path to redemption.

Her intervention had changed his life. Since then he’d made his peace with humanity, determined to do good instead of evil.

Five years ago he’d saved Detective Frazier MacAdam from a brutal attack by thugs. Since then the two had become good friends. Frazier was the only human being who knew his true nature. And in return for his silence, Adrian had helped the detective with his more unusual cases. Despite their friendship, he had the feeling the detective didn’t entirely trust him. Frazier went to great lengths to keep Adrian away from his new female partner, Kiana.

Apparently the partner was off on holiday. And it sounded like Frazier could use his particular expertise. With a groan he levered his sleep-heavy body from the bed and trudged off toward the shower.

Ice-cold water shocked him back to consciousness. Adrian stood before the mirror and contemplated the jar of flesh-colored zinc. Now seemed like as good a time as any to try it out.

Two weeks ago, he’d coated a quarter-sized patch of his hand with the zinc and exposed it to the weak morning sun. The paste had protected him for over five minutes. But now he was facing a drive downtown in a convertible.

Should have bought a hearse, he thought in darkest humor. At least they were dark inside and he'd have the benefit of those little gray curtains.

In the mirror, his reflection stared back at him. Pale as a ghost. More accurately, a vampire. His shoulder-length, blond hair was only one shade darker than his skin. Emerald green eyes stared back at him with a preternatural glow. With a grimace, Adrian stuck his finger into the pot of sunscreen and smeared a line of zinc across his cheek.

It had taken him weeks to get the mixture smooth and light enough to mimic real skin. The concoction gave him a healthy glow. He looked almost....

Human.

Looking human wouldn't save him from the sun's inferno. Adrian hesitated at the door to his loft. Better safe than burned to a cinder. Rooting in a trunk on the floor of his closet, he came up with a black ski mask. He'd used the scratchy wool face protection only once before and didn't relish the opportunity to do it again. But he pulled it on anyway and added a black fedora to the outfit. Sunglasses, guaranteed to block ultraviolet rays, went on over the mask. Already uncomfortably hot, he sighed then pulled his black trench coat from the closet. Straightening his shoulders, Adrian flung open the door to his apartment and prepared to face the light.

He made it to the garage door before courage deserted him. Fear rooted him to the thick shadows. Outside, he could feel the caustic heat of the sun still dangerously high in the sky. It didn’t help that once in his life, he'd barely escaped being burned to a crisp. It made the sun and anything else that could burn doubly scary.

This potion had to work, he thought. He forced himself to reach out, grasp the handle of the garage door. Wrapping his will around his fear, Adrian hauled it open.

Blinding light spilled into the garage. He tensed, ready to dash back into the shadows of his apartment.

Underneath the heavy wool of his ski mask his skin prickled in outrage. Adrian dragged in a shuddering breath and ordered tense muscles to relax. Above him the sun beat down mercilessly on him. He felt its heat through the mask. Vampiric instincts screamed at him to take cover. He sucked in another breath, trying to conjure up comforting memories from his long forgotten past.

Visions of a grassy meadow, an azure sky and soft spring breeze flitted through his mind. After nearly five hundred years, it was hard to grasp the insubstantial memory. But the sensation of warm sun on his face lingered. He tried to reconstruct the sensation of comforting warmth, but so many years of instinct were not so easily ignored.

Swallowing his fear, Adrian inched further into the light. With dread a leaden weight in his stomach, he waited for the searing pain, the gray smoke, the terrible smell of his own flesh bursting into flame.

Sun glared relentlessly down on him. An itch started in the tips of his fingers, then spread out over his arms and down his spine. He felt it reach deeper still, penetrating to the bone. But when the tingle hadn't turned to agony and his skin hadn't burst into flame, he stretched his arm further into the light.

For a moment he could only stand there, marveling that he hadn't turned into a torch. The urgency of the situation got through to him, and he leapt into his gunmetal green Miata.

Driving proved to be more of a challenge than he anticipated. Brightness made his eyes tear, even with the sunglasses. How could human drivers bear all that brightness and glare? No wonder they had so many accidents. Adrian blinked tears from his eyes and pulled into traffic.

A car full of blonde teenaged girls pulled up beside him as he turned onto Lakeshore Boulevard. Adrian endured their giggles stoically, wishing he could tear off the ski mask and give them a glance at his true face. Tall, blond-haired and green eyed, he knew women found him pleasing to look at. Their interest would turn quickly to horror if he allowed them a glimpse of his true self. But instead he sat shrouded in felt and wool and endured the ridicule of women barely past childhood.

"It's come to this," he muttered, burning rubber as he pulled away.

By the time he reached the waterfront, the sun had dipped below the tree line, shrouding the landscape in the kind of light photographers called the magic hour. Red and blue flashing lights of the metro cruisers drew him to the crime scene.

Holding his breath, he pulled off the mask. Weak light, cast by the absent sun illuminated the waterfront with a soft lavender glow. Carefully, he turned his face toward the light. It prickled like his skin was crawling with scorpions, but so far no blistering. He decided to leave on the hat, sunglasses and coat just in case. Shrouded head to foot in black, he looked conspicuously out of the place in the warm June afternoon. But it was better than being turned to a man-sized lump of ash. Gingerly, he stepped from the Miata and strode across the grass doing his best to project more self-assurance than he felt.

"The coroner estimates the time of death to be about twelve hours ago," he heard Frazier say as he walked up. "As for the cause--" he stopped, mid sentence. "Give me a second, will you."

Frazier’s tan jacket and brown pants practically screamed cop, Adrian thought. Stocky with red hair, amber eyes and a million freckles, he gave the impression of being eternally twenty-one. But the bright sun betrayed lines in the corners of his friend’s eyes. And anyone who crossed Frazier MacAdam would find it hard to forget his Scottish wrath.

"Just get me past the police tape and inside," Adrian hissed as soon as Frazier reached him.

One of the uniformed cops jerked a shoulder in Adrian’s direction. "Who’s the guy in black?"

"No one you need to worry about," Frazier shot back.

"He’s not ... wearing make-up, is he?"

Frazier glanced at Adrian, taking in the odd color of the vampire’s skin for the first time. He choked down a laugh, then shot the officer a stern look. "Don’t you have some paperwork to do?" The officer wandered off muttering.

Mercifully Frazier snatched Adrian away from prying eyes. "Shall we--"

He marched off down the grassy slope to the shore of Lake Ontario where a cabin cruiser lay crookedly on the beach. The insignia 'Gone Sailing' was scrawled across the back of the boat, barely readable beneath the scratches and dirt. A line of yellow and black police tape staked out the sand around it. With one last glance at the fading sunlight, Adrian hurried to catch up to him.

Read an excerpt from Adopt a Demon:

Meghan Lenihan draped synthetic spider’s webbing across the corner of the ceiling above her computer desk giving it a touch of Halloween ambiance. Plastic spiders clung to the web but with a quick tug, she pulled one down so that it would dangle ominously above her head while she worked.

How she loved Halloween. It was her very favorite season. The little imp inside her got to come out and play and no one questioned if she was really 26 years old when she acted more like 13.

Her bunny ears shifted uncomfortably on her head so she readjusted them. She hummed along to Bobby "Boris" Karloff’s "Monster Mash" as she dragged her pumpkins onto the table to be carved into jack-o’-lanterns. Everything had to be ready for her cousin’s visit. Lucy was due to swoop in any minute. A justice-of-the-peace for a Las Vegas wedding chapel, she visited Meg every October so they could celebrate Halloween together. If possible, Lucy loved the pagan holiday even more than herself.

Immersing herself in the season’s spirit, Meg sliced the lid off the largest gourd and began scooping out the seeds and pulp, delighting in her very favorite scent. She kept pumpkin spiced candles burning year round, even in the height of summer. She would be ecstatic to live in a place where eternal autumn reigned. Colorful falling leaves, harvest golds and oranges, the slight chill in the air, all invigorated her. The only thing she liked as much as Halloween was a giant pumpkin patch, and face it--didn’t the two go hand in hand?

Elbow-deep in pumpkin pulp with a goodly amount of the orange stuff splattered on her face, she was in her element when Lucy waltzed in. "Cousin!" Having grown up next door to one another, staying over night, weekends, and going to summer camp together, they were closer than most sisters.

"Boy oh boy, you’re a sight for sore eyes." Lucy dumped her cases by the door and rushed to hug her, pumpkin pulp and all.

Giddy, Meg overflowed with joy. Life without Lucy had grown empty and boring. Heaven forbid, she’d even given serious thought to pulling up stakes and moving out to Las Vegas to be with her. Only the dismal prospect of perpetual summer had kept her rooted in the Ohio Valley. Somehow she didn’t think the desert sported many pumpkin patches or cool autumn breezes.

"How was your trip?"

"Awesome! I was about to puke if I had to marry one more Elvis impersonator this week." Lucy wiped a strand of pumpkin pulp from Meg’s cheek with a saucy grin.

Knowing her cousin’s aversion to the Elvis impersonators, she’d hidden her vast Elvis record collection. She couldn’t blame her and supposed she’d be sick to death of all the glitz and glamour, too, if she was fed a steady diet of it.

"Better you than me." The idea of flying nauseated her since 9/11. Turn her into a bat and then let her fly on her own steam. Only under extreme protest did she fly anymore and that was for work to visit Lucy. Unfortunately, it took four or five long hard days of driving to go from Cincinnati to Las Vegas and she only got two weeks vacation yearly. She always took one at Halloween when Lucy visited and then one in the spring to visit Lucy in Las Vegas.

"You’ve barely begun to decorate!" Lucy clucked her tongue and shook her platinum blonde head. "You’re falling down on the job, girlfriend."

Perplexed, Meg frowned as she checked out her apartment. Spider webbing hung from every other corner. A huge skeleton dangled across her sliding glass balcony door. Cute black cats and whimsical witches perched on several shelves. Lucy had to be getting at the fact it wasn’t dark and gruesome enough for her maudlin tastes. Practically a mistress of the night, Lucy would make an excellent vampire queen. She’d only be happy if they made the place into a crypt.

"What d’ya mean? Every surface, every wall is decorated. I’ve even carved my first round of pumpkins." Turning the happy-faced cutesy pumpkin toward her cousin, she winked. "Isn’t he precious?"

Lucy’s amber eyes widened in shock. "Only you would ruin a perfectly good jack-o’-lantern by carving it into a smiley face. Get with the program. Halloween’s supposed to be creepy and spooky, not so-so cutesy." The way she said "cutesy" sounded more like "pukey".

Meg sighed loudly, shaking her head. "Halloween doesn’t have to be morbid to be fun."

"I’m still amazed our moms came from the same womb, we’re such opposites." But she threw a companionable arm around Meg’s shoulders and squeezed them affectionately.

"I could really use a drink. Want to go out on the town?"

"For some sizzling Cincinnati nightlife?" Lucy’s silvery laughter tinkled over Meg. Of course glitzy Las Vegas had made her blasé.

"Yep. I think there’s an Oktoberfest across town." And everyone knew the Germans had the best beer and brats around.

"The big Oktoberfest at Fountain Square?" Lucy’s eyes glittered. Obviously her home town measured up in at least one area. Meg seriously doubted Las Vegas boasted an authentic German Oktoberfest like Cincinnati did. She’d bet they didn’t cordon off their downtown for it like Cincinnati did. The more she racked up the merits of her hometown the more she decided to persuade Lucy to move back home. "Not yet. In another week or two, but any Oktoberfest has to be good as long as it keeps pouring the rich German brew...."

"You’re on, cuz. Lead the way." Lucy linked her arm through Meg’s, excitement thrumming in her touch.

* * * *

Hours later, loaded with the premium German lager, the cousins stumbled out of their cab and helped each other upstairs to Meg’s apartment. Laughter bubbled from their lips as they plopped onto Meg’s couch.

"I forgot how much I love Oktoberfest and Zinzinnati." Lucy’s tongue twisted around the special pronunciation usually reserved for Oktoberfests and Cincinnati Red’s home games.

Meg hadn’t forgotten. She loved her hometown about as much as she loved Halloween. To have the two best celebrations of the year in the same month was nirvana. Too bad she couldn’t take the entire month of October off from her interior decorating business. Really, October should be a national holiday.

"So, tell me about the man in your life." Lucy gazed at her expectantly as she suppressed a wide yawn.

Meg’s lips twisted wryly. "What man?" As far as she was concerned, all the good single men had fled town or were hiding extremely well. Everyone she’d met lately had been, well, freaky. It was almost as if they only showed their true faces during Halloween and wore normal masks the rest of the year.

Snorting, she finally admitted, "The only man in my life is the hottie who visits my dreams." Although he’d been showing up more frequently, he always evaporated in the mist of wakefulness. Not a very useful lover. She needed a real flesh and blood man in her bed to chase away the loneliness. Dream lovers were sweet but not very practical.

A frown tugged at Lucy’s lips and she shoved her fingers through her wind tossed locks. "My mission this visit then, is to find you a man."

Horror of horrors! That proclamation had not just tumbled off Lucy’s lips. "Now marrying people isn’t enough for you? You have to play match maker, too?"

Then a thought struck her. "Hey! Does this mean you’ve found someone special?" If not, then she just needed to back off. Lonely as the night could get, she would find a man in her own time to her own specifications. No freaks wearing normal masks for her. Working in Las Vegas, Lucy should be sympathetic to that.

Lucy snapped up straight in her seat. "Oh, no no no. I’m not in the market. Marriage isn’t for me. If you saw the same men getting married every year, you’d know what a lying, cheating bunch they are."

That rap on the male species could only mean one thing. Meg’s heart went out to her cousin. "You got dumped."

Lucy sniffled and her lips pulled into an exaggerated pout. "Yeah, by an Elvis impersonator no less."

Meg did a double take and quickly tried to shutter her shock. She’d best ship off her Elvis collection to a friend for safe-keeping.

"The lying conniving scoundrel expected me to marry him to his new bimbo. Can you believe it?" Lucy punched Meg’s favorite throw pillow and then began twisting it as if choking the bastard.

"So did you?" Meg ducked fast when the pillow rocketed at her.

Lucy rose to her unsteady feet and braced herself against the wall. "Oh, go rendezvous with your dream hottie. On second thought, he’s much safer than the real men out there. On that note, I’m getting some shut-eye."

Fantastic idea! The beer was making it difficult to keep her eyes open. "Sweet dreams."

Meg’s eyes drooped the moment her head touched the pillow, and she rolled onto her side and gathered her covers over her. The chill autumn air made the perfect sleep aid, and she drifted into her netherworld.

Before long, the mists lifted and Jason, her dream lover, joined her. "I thought you’d never come, my love." The 6’4" hottie gazed upon her with a passion that made her groin tingle. His smoldering blue eyes seemed to reach into her very soul so that the chasm separating them magically disappeared.

A deep longing for him flooded her. She craved him more than life, needed him more than life. Theirs was a timeless, everlasting love.

Jason opened his arms and his husky voice washed over her making her quiver. "Come here, love. Let me hold you."

She was in his embrace before he’d finished speaking, snuggling impossibly, incredibly close. She pressed her eager lips to his warm chest, molding to him perfectly. "I missed you so much. I hate it when I wake up. I’m so very lonely without you."

He squeezed her tightly and feathered warm kisses across her forehead. "Soon, my love, we’ll be together all the time, again."

She frowned and pulled back far enough to peer up into his beautiful, beloved face. Never had she met such a gorgeous man, with a long straight nose, firm, chiseled lips, a strong square jaw, and a devilish, sexy gleam in the brightest bluest eyes she’d ever seen. "Again?"

"I promise it’ll all come back to you in time." Jason bent his head and captured her lips in a heady, mind-numbing kiss that stole her breath. Tingles cascaded through her and she shivered deliciously.

Against her mouth, he asked seductively, "Cold?"

Uh-uh. Just the opposite. "Feverish." For him. Only for him.

His hands explored her body, one coming to rest on the swell of her breast, the other cupping her buttock. "Guess you’ll be needing some special first aid."

"Uhm. Desperately." Quivering with lust, she pressed against him and coiled her arms around his neck. Parting her mouth, she licked her lower lip with the tip of her tongue as she tip-toed up to him. Although not a small woman at 5’10", it was still a stretch to reach her tree-top lover.

"Desperately, huh?" His gaze sparkled down into hers, love blazing in them.

"You wouldn’t be making fun of me, would you?" Coquettish, she batted her lashes up at him. God, but he was so very excitingly normal. Wonderful. Luscious. If only he was real.

"I am real," he said as if reading her thoughts.

A wave of sorrow tried to drown her euphoria. Biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling, she got a grip on herself. "I mean alive."

Jason slid a long finger under her chin and forced her to gaze up into his hypnotic eyes. "I’m more alive than you know."

Read an excerpt from The Sacrifice:

"You must leave the village tonight, Briana. You must not tarry."

Briana clasped her hands and studied her foster mother across the oaken table. A tremendous swell of affection for the woman rose inside her, coupled with the sorrow that she must leave her. "Are you sure about this? Could you be mistaken?

Enid shook her head. "Scrying never lies. It’s as I told you. This morning while you worked in the garden, I stared into a bowl of water until I lost track of time. Then I saw your

Face ... I saw," tears flooded her eyes, her voice breaking "the knife!" She brushed her hand across her eyes. "And I don’t need to tell you...." She sighed deeply, unable to say anymore.

Briana sat back and stared out the small window to the forested hills, and a myriad of thoughts churned inside her head. She knew the custom in her village of Lochlann, oh, yes! How well she knew, for it was the practice throughout the land. Every year at Samhain, the druids chose the most beautiful woman in the village to sacrifice--to knife to death!--to ensure that the gods would provide protection against the dangers that threatened the people on that holy eve. For on Samhain, one of the holiest days of the year, the veil between the real world and the Otherworld disappeared, and demons stalked the land.

Everyone had to attend the ceremony, whether they wanted to or not, aye, even young children. She had always hidden behind her mother’s long skirt, but she could never shut out the sound of the villagers’ chanting, nor the woman’s screams. After the ceremony, the villagers rushed home and locked their doors.

Arguments taunted Briana. She inhaled, catching the scent of the vegetable stew that simmered over the large stone fireplace, the pungent fragrance of onions. Iron pots hung from hooks on the wall, and flowered curtains brightened the cottage’s lone window.

She glanced back to Enid and to the thatched house that had been her home for all of her twenty years. "But I’m certainly not the most beautiful woman in the village. There are surely others more beautiful than I."

Enid smiled kindly. "When is the last time you looked into a mirror, dear daughter? You are truly lovely, with your blonde hair and those blue eyes. Besides, I know what I saw, and it was you the druid k-k-killed. You can’t stay here. It breaks my heart to say this, but you must leave."

"And if I leave, then what? The druids will choose another. Maybe Regan Mulhoney."

"Regan, pah! She is evil, that one. Would serve her right if the druids chose her."

"And you?" Briana persisted. "When the druids find that I’ve gone, they will take their anger out on you."

"Ah, you don’t know my powers of persuasion." A sly look captured her face. "And you have never seen me apply the glamour."

Briana raised her eyebrows. "Glamour?"

"Why, yes." She set her face in concentration, and slowly the wrinkles disappeared, the gray hair turned black again, and she smiled in sultry confidence.

Briana gasped. "Enid, you’re beautiful. But you have always been beautiful to me." She reached across the table to clasp the woman’s hand and Enid squeezed hers in return. Briana swallowed, tears clouding her vision. Gods, she didn’t want to leave this dear woman. "Enid, I can’t leave you," she said, determined to put her misgivings into words one more time. "I’m willing to take a chance."

"But I’m not. Daughter, before your father went to join your dear mother in the Otherworld, he entrusted you to my care. The gods alone know why your parents were never blessed with other children, but you have always been like a true daughter to me, my only family. As a faithful family servant, I have always done my best for you. I can’t fail you now." She scraped her chair back and stood. "Enough talk. Supper will be our last meal together for ... for who knows how long. After we eat, you must pack your things and head west."

Briana stood, too. "West? Wouldn’t south make more sense?" Her throat ached from unshed tears, but she must accept this challenge, her destiny. "There are mountains--"

"Wooded hills."

"Very well, wooded hills. Very steep hills on all sides but south. Wouldn’t it make more sense to head in that direction?"

"And that is the very direction the druids’ enforcers would choose to look for you, because it is the most logical. But those wooded hills are no more than three-thousand feet, and once you cross them going west--about fifty miles--you come to the city of Magh Mell, a truly large city. Easy to lose yourself in a place that size. I fear you must seek employment there, but I can give you a few silver coins--"

"I can’t take your money!"

Enid held up a hand. "Don’t worry about me. Your father left me enough to last me for years, and you need the money more than I."

Briana nodded, reluctant to make this ordeal more difficult for this woman who meant the world to her....

It was a quiet meal they sat down to a short while later. Briana had so much she wanted to say, but she couldn’t force the words past her throat. She finished her vegetable stew, oat bread, and cheese. She drank her beer sweetened with honey, aware she must eat well before her long journey, and knowing this might be the last meal they would share, ever.

After draining her mug, she stood to gather the dishes for washing.

Enid laid a hand on her arm. "I’ll wash the dishes. You go ahead and pack your things."

"Yes," she said on a sob, accepting that she must not waste time. She headed for her small bedchamber, where a narrow bed shared space with a three-drawer clothes chest. She knelt on the floor and pulled out a canvas satchel from under the bed. Tears streamed down her face as she packed her other two dresses, both serviceable wool, one dark blue, the other light gray, adding cotton shifts and stockings, a few toiletry items, a comb, and a cake of lilac soap. From her top drawer, she drew out a jet brooch Weylyn Quinn had bought her at the Beltaine festival several moon phases ago. She sighed as she touched the ornament. Too bad Weylyn was one of the druids’ enforcers, one of their lieutenants who ensured that the people followed every dictate of the religion and that no one blasphemed the gods. She might have liked him otherwise. Shrugging, she tossed the piece into the satchel, needing to keep a memento with her. She grabbed her voluminous woolen cloak from a peg and wrapped it around her to protect her against the autumn chill.

Through a mist of tears, she snapped the satchel shut and looked around the room that had been her home for all her life, her gaze covering all the little knickknacks and trinkets she had collected over the years. Although small, her wooden home with its thatched roof was bigger than most, boasting two bedchambers that led off from the main room. Since so few in the village of Lochlann could read or write--except the druids--her father had earned money as a scriber, and if the people couldn’t pay him in coin, they gave him produce. Her mother had supplemented the family income as a seamstress. They hadn’t been wealthy, but neither had they been poor. Briana bit her lip as memories flooded her brain, all the precious moments with her mother and father, all the times she would never forget.

"Briana?"

Wrenched back to the present, she glanced up to see Enid in the doorway, the woman’s face red from crying. Twilight dimmed the room--time to leave. "Yes," she said in sad resignation. Sobbing brokenly, she rushed over to Enid and hugged her, as if she would never let go. She stepped back and looked into the other woman’s eyes. "Are you sure about this, Enid? Is there no way...?"

"We’ve already gone through this. No point in discussing it anymore. Believe me, I would give my life to have it otherwise." She drew a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her nose. "Now be on your way, my dear one." She placed several silver coins in Briana’s hands and closed her fingers around them. "Keep these coins with you at all times. Best to keep them in your pocket. As you cross the hills, you should not encounter anyone, but once you reach Magh Mell, you must remember that the world is full of dishonest people. Be very careful whom you trust. And one more thing--should you return and find I have passed on--"

"No!"

"--should you find I’m no longer here, there is silver in the sewing machine." She indicated the machine, gathering dust in the corner. "When you raise the lid, you see the machine underneath. Under that is a compartment. There is a spring under that which will release the compartment, where I keep the silver coins." She picked up a wooden basket from the floor. "I’ve packed enough food to last you until you reach the city. From then on, I fear you are on your own." She wagged a finger at her. "Now don’t forget, be careful whom you trust."

"I’ll remember." She took one last look around the house then turned back to Enid. "Goodbye," she whispered, hugging her foster mother one more time.

"Goodbye, dear one." She smiled briskly, her eyes flooded with tears. "Now be on your way."

Briana tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come as she made her way toward the front door while tears swam in her eyes. Afraid to look back for fear she couldn’t go through with her journey, she opened and closed the door behind her, bracing herself against the autumn wind. After a few steps, she bent over and sobbed, as if her heart would break. Moments later, she brushed the tears away and headed for the woods. Since her house lay close to the woods, it didn’t take her long to reach the forest path. She was on her way.

* * * *

The following day Enid sat at the oaken table finishing her broccoli soup, trying not to worry about Briana, this young woman she loved as her own. Despite her efforts, memories washed over her as she recalled when she’d first come as a servant to this house when Briana was only five. Throughout the years, this child had come to mean so much to her that she wondered how she’d ever lived before she’d met her. And after the death of Briana’s mother, followed by her father’s death two years later, Briana had truly become her own child.

The door banged back and a uniformed man burst into the house. Enid’s heart jumped. One of the druids’ enforcers! She fought down her panic and struggled for serenity.

"Where is she?" The enforcer strode her way, his hand on his sword hilt. Beefy and muscular, he had a broken nose. He reeked of garlic.

Enid folded her hands and sought calmness. "I presume you mean Briana. That ungrateful wretch! After all I’ve done for her she left this house last night. Took all my silver--"

"You lie, woman!" He drew his hand back, then let it fall to his side. "Tell me where she is and I’ll go easy on you. But if you don’t cooperate, we know how to get the information from you. After we pull a few nails...."

"Why, sir, would you do such a thing?" With every bit of concentration she could summon, she applied the glamour, her wrinkles disappearing, her hair turning a glossy black. She rose from her chair and spoke in a husky voice. "Why would I lie to a big, handsome man like you?" She caressed his arm, smiling her most beguiling smile, hating herself--hating him--for this game of bewitchment she must play. "But tell me, please, why you are looking for Briana."

He leered at her, twisting a lock of her silky hair between his fingers. "You know every year on the afternoon of Samhain the druids choose the most beautiful maiden in the village to sacrifice to the gods, to keep the evil spirits away from our houses."

She tilted her head. "But Samhain is days away. And the druids always wait ‘til the day of Samhain to make their choice."

"To announce their choice. They make their choice a few days before the ceremony. They could hardly wait ‘til that afternoon to decide whom to choose. No, they already have."

"Ah. And Briana?"

"Well, she is the most beautiful maiden in the village." He licked his lips, a gleam in his eyes. "But now that I’ve seen you, I wonder if they chose the right one."

She sought to divert him. If she wasn’t careful, he would drag her off to the druids. "But why did you come today for Briana? What made the druids think she wouldn’t be here?"

"Well, knowin’ you’re a witch and all that, the druids suspected you might foretell their decision. You might send the girl away."

She stepped back in insulted pride. "As if I would do such a thing! Do you really think I would thwart the druids’ wishes? No, sir, I tell you she left this house last night, left this woman--" she tapped her chest--me!, who has done so much for her, treated her like my own daughter. Acted perfectly normal yesterday evening, and when I got up this morning, she was gone." She allowed a tear to trickle down her cheek, too well aware she wasn’t really acting. Ah, how she missed Briana. "That’s gratitude for you. No, sir, she’s gone. Just like that! I suspect she’s headed south to stay with relatives in Greeb Point."

He stepped back. "South, you say?"

She nodded. "Makes sense. She’d stay with relatives, no doubt lie, tell them I was mean to her." Another tear ran down her cheek. "By all the gods, sir, I hope you find and punish her. Would serve her right if you did."

Read an excerpt from The Seductress:

It’s too hard to be normal.

Colette McFarland tightened her arms around the brown paper bag of groceries. Her high heels clicked against the cement as she walked down the poorly lit sidewalk toward her apartment building only a half-mile away. Working until seven o’clock at the travel agency didn’t give her enough daylight hours to go shopping, and if she wanted to be like everybody else, she had to follow their daily routine. Of course, with a snap of her fingers, she could be in her apartment right now fixing dinner. For that matter, she could even return to find dinner already prepared.

But no, she had to do things like regular people.

Her heel caught on a small crack in the sidewalk and she stumbled. Righting herself, she cursed under her breath and tested her foot. When she put weight on it, pain shot up her leg. It’d be hard to walk in heels with a twisted ankle. Should she whisk herself home?

For the hundredth time since leaving work, she reminded herself that she must act normal. Wouldn’t her Zoetan ancestors be scowling at her now if they knew what thoughts swam through her head?

She quickly forgot about her past and froze when a familiar twitch irritated her skin. She wrinkled her nose. Something bad was happening.

She cocked her head and listened. The street by the small market remained quiet, only a distant honking sounded in the night. But something was wrong. Somebody out there needed help.

She lifted her hand from the paper bag to touch the jade and diamond dragon necklace around her throat. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her feelings.

Other noises echoed through her head, closer this time, and she focused in on the sounds. Scuffling, then the thud of something hitting the ground. Foul curses, the whooshing sound of a person losing his breath. A groan.

She inhaled sharply. The sounds came from the alley just around the corner. Cautiously, she limped near the shadowed path and peeked around the brick wall. Down at the end of the way, two men stood over a man’s prone body, kicking him.

Her heart sank. Was he dead? Touching the necklace again, she focused on the man on the ground. No, a bit roughed up, but not dead.

Suddenly, bright lights shone on her as a car drove up the street. It slowed, then the passenger window rolled down. She flattened herself against the red brick wall and gaped at the driver.

"Hey, baby." The man inside winked and waved a twenty-dollar bill. "Do you want a ride?"

She threw a glare at the obnoxious man in the car. Why did all men look at her as if she were a piece of meat for sale? "No, thank you. I’m fine."

He shrugged and continued driving.

Before she could turn back to the scene, a hand gripped her from behind and jerked her inside the alley. The bag of groceries fell and spilled to the ground. A rough hand pulled her a few feet farther before a hard body pushed her against the brick building. Yanking her hands behind her back, the man imprisoned her with his body. Pain shot up her arms and she cried out.

Through the shadows, another man emerged and stood beside his friend. These were the two she’d just seen beating the other.

"Who do we have here?" the second man asked.

Shadows played games with her vision, and the man’s pocked face was all she could see. The scent of leather and stale cigarettes hung thick around him and assaulted her senses. She narrowed her eyes, trying to get a better look at his face, but it was shaded beneath a baseball cap.

The first man grinned. Pale light from a distant street lamp illuminated his brownish-yellow teeth. She grimaced.

"Looks like we’ve got us a tasty morsel." His hand ran down the front of her dress and rested on a breast.

He squeezed. Disgusted with the thug’s violent gesture, her stomach rolled with anger. "Let me go." She squirmed.

The man holding her laughed. "Don’t think so, sweetie. You’ve seen too much, already."

"I didn’t see anything." Her voice quivered.

His thumb grazed over her nipple. "Sorry, no-can-do."

She tugged on her hand, trying to free herself, but his tight grip wouldn’t budge. Panic suffocated her. If she could just touch her necklace, she’d show these bozos who they were messing with. Yet, she shouldn’t use her powers in front of mortals.

The man in leather leaned in and sniffed her neck then touched his tongue to her skin. "Hmmm, she tastes good."

The first man laughed. "How much do you charge, sweetie?"

As usual, a man suspected the worst. She’d thought the Zoetan’s lineage was a curse. Naturally, the women in the Zoetan tribe would be alluring to any male. It had been written that way in the stars. Just because she liked to wear clothes that accentuated her figure didn’t mean she sold herself.

"Hey, Chuck, why don’t you hold her for me and I’ll hold her for you?"

The man pinning her against the building turned to his leather-clad friend. "Why can’t I go first?"

His grip loosened enough to give her the edge she needed. She pulled her hand free and touched her necklace.

An invisible force pushed the men away from her and threw them into the brick wall on the other side of the alley. With wide eyes, they cried out when their heads connected with the wall. They slid to the ground in an unconscious heap.

Colette breathed a relieved sigh. That was too close.

"Oh, my God," exclaimed a weak voice from up the alley.

She snapped her attention to the third man--the one still on the ground. Damn. She’d forgotten about him.

She hurried over to the injured man and knelt beside him. His eyes were wide, his bloody mouth agape. He’d seen it all.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Who are you?" He shook his head. "What are you?"

That she could not tell him.

She gripped his arm and helped him to sit. "We should get you out of here before those buffoons wake up."

He yanked his arm away. "You didn’t answer my question. What are you?"

She sighed and glanced over at her two would-be attackers, still on the ground. She looked back at the man next to her. "Listen, we have to get you out of here. Those two were trying to kill you."

"No, they just wanted to rough me up."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. I made a bad financial decision, and now I owe them a lot of money. Unfortunately, I can’t pay it back when they’d like."

"Have you reported them to the police?"

"No." He shrugged. "Since I’ve been under protection from my father’s bodyguards, I didn’t think it was necessary. I didn’t realize those goons had been following me all this time. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone to that nightclub alone."

"Is your father someone important?"

He nodded. "He’s the Senator."

She blew out a gush of air. "Then we definitely need to get you out of here before those hoods wake up."

She helped him stand. He limped heavily and fell against her. Letting out a groan, he clutched his side. "I think they broke a rib or two."

From farther up the alley, the two men stirred to awareness, moaning as they pulled themselves upright.

"Lady, get me out of here." He grabbed her arm, his voice pleading. "I’ll pay you."

She looked at him. "I don’t know if I can. If we walk by them, they’ll grab us both."

He glanced at the men then eyed her. "Do whatever weirdness you’re capable of and get us the hell out of here. When they wake up, they’re going to be pissed off at you. They have guns and won’t hesitate to use them."

She glanced at the men slowly rising and knew she’d have to use her powers.

Touching her necklace, she squeezed her eyes closed and focused. When she opened her eyes, they stood in the kitchen of her apartment.

"Holy shit." He gasped and looked around the room. "I don’t believe it."

Colette helped him to a dining room chair then went to the sink and filled a glass with cold water. She grabbed a dishtowel and dishrag from a nearby drawer. After wetting and squeezing out the dishrag, she turned to face him. "I would appreciate it if you’d forget this ever happened."

"What are you?" he asked again.

She couldn’t ignore his question this time. Unfortunately, her powers wouldn’t let her erase a mortal’s memory.

She walked over and set the glass down on the table in front of him, then held out the wet cloth. "Let’s try to get you cleaned up a little."

"Are you some kind of witch?"

She set the rag down and looked at him. "You believe in witches?"

He shrugged. "They used to burn witches in Salem. I figured history can’t be that wrong."

She picked up the rag again then leaned over and dabbed at the drying blood on his lower lip. She’d tell him, then tomorrow she’d have to move to another town ... again. "Many of my ancestors were burned in Salem."

He laughed. "I knew it!" After taking a sip of the water she’d given him, he leaned forward, grimacing as he clutched his side. "So, what does your necklace have to do with anything?"

"I’m only half witch." She pulled out the chair and sat next to him. She noticed for the first time how blue his eyes were, and if his face didn’t look like it had slammed into a locomotive he’d be quite handsome. "My grandmother married a mortal."

"What kind of powers do half witches have?"

"My sisters and I each wear a dragon necklace." She brushed the tip of her finger over it. "This is what gives us our powers."

"What kind of powers?"

"Nothing bad, if that’s what you’re asking."

His forehead creased. "But you threw those men into the wall. That wouldn’t be considered a good act."

"No, I pushed them off me. The wall just happened to be there to break their fall."

She studied him. The wheels of curiosity churned in his narrowed eyes. She’d have to get him back home before he asked too many questions.

"Let’s say you wanted to set someone’s house on fire. Could your necklace do that?"

She chuckled. "No, I’d have to do it with my own hands."

He smiled through his cracked lip. "And if you wanted to rob a bank?"

"My necklace wouldn’t let me. I’d have to do it myself. I can only do good things while using the power of the necklace."

His battered hand slid across the table and covered hers. "Could you make people fall in love with you?"

Her heart dropped. That was one power she had no control over. All the women in her family were naturally sensual.

"No, the necklace can’t do that ... not really."

"But it can help?"

She shrugged. "Depends on how I use it. It’s meant for only good or to bring people happiness."

His grin widened then he flinched and touched the open cut that began to bleed again.

"Mister, we really need to get you to a hospital."

"My name is John Robinson." His gaze rested on her again. "Can’t you heal me? After all, it’s for good."

Her heart sank. She knew this would happen. Although she didn’t reveal her powers to everyone she’d met, for those she did, they used her afterwards. Would she ever learn?

With a nod, she stood and moved beside him. His dark gaze dropped to her breasts, and she tried not to let the obvious lust in his eyes affect her. Taking his hand in hers, she helped him to stand. Closing her eyes, she touched her necklace. Warmth spread from her body to his. She flinched with each pain he’d suffered tonight, making it disappear within his body. Within moments the physical drain of healing him washed over her, weakening her slightly.

She opened her eyes and was struck by the sight of him, renewed. Built like a Greek God, his muscles fascinated her, as did his extremely handsome face. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his smooth jaw, now free from bruises and cuts. This time when he smiled, his lips did not crack.

"You’re an angel, not a witch," he whispered.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you’ve made a married man fall in love with you."

Her heart dropped. "You’re married?"

He nodded. "And I have a teenage son."

She lowered her gaze to the floor. "I’m ... sorry--"

"Don’t be. You’re exactly what I need right now."

When he slid his arms around her waist, pulling her against his body, she resisted, but his mouth covered hers in a tender kiss. Sighing, it relieved her that he wasn’t one of those aggressive men. Besides, she wouldn’t see him again after this. And after all--perhaps this kiss was what she needed, also.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her breasts against his rock hard chest. She relaxed and enjoyed the way his mouth molded to hers, the way his tongue slipped inside and caressed. She copied his actions.

His hand wandered from her back to her waist, then up to brush by her breast. It moved up from her chest to her neck. The gentle stroke of his fingers relaxed her.

Then her nose twitched again and her body froze. Something bad is going to happen--again.

Before she could pull away, his hand tightened around her necklace and yanked. He shoved her backwards. She stumbled against the table and fell into the chair. Gasping, she touched her neck, now naked without her necklace.

John’s eyes glowed brightly like the Devil’s. Greed and the lust for power flickered over his face as he grasped her heirloom.

"Please, John. Give it back to me."

He smiled triumphantly. "With this necklace, I can control you, can’t I?"

"Please, John, don’t do this."

He laughed and fear made her stomach roll.

"My dear witch, I have many things planned for the two of us."

Colette stood, her hands balled into fists by her side. "My necklace won’t allow me to do anything bad."

He shook his head. "That’s not what I have planned."

She scowled. "What, then?"

His smiled stretched further, his eyes twinkling with greed again. "I have a friend I want you to meet. You’ll make him a good wife, and his wealth will support my future endeavors." He dragged his gaze back to her. "My sweet seductress, you and I are going to become very good friends."

His laughter rang out through the house. Colette was doomed.