Random Paranormal Tales of 2025
Silent Knight by Davidson King
Summary:Can someone have both all the luck and none at all? For Ezra Acker the answer is yes. Life just is for him…until one Christmas when everything shifts and he finds out he has a silent knight who has been protecting him.
A world Ezra didn’t know existed is trying to kill both him and his knight. Can they survive the holidays and have a happily ever after or will Heaven and Hell see to it they don’t?
Silent Knight is a standalone dark paranormal novelette that was a part of the O Deadly Night Vol 2 Charity Anthology. No part of this story has been changed.
I originally read this King short in the O Deadly Night Vol 2 Charity Anthology last Xmas and loved it then and I think I might love it even more now. Ezra and Senon are so amazing together, despite some of the darkness of the story you can't help but cheer them on. I have no idea if Davidson King ever intends to expand and branch this universe or perhaps connect it to another of her series, if she does I'll be like the family cat poised to pounce on discarded wrapping paper on Christmas morning. If Silent Knight is all we get of Ezra and Senon's world than I will savor it for Xmases and Xmases in July for years to come.
Original O Deadly Night Vol 2 Charity Anthology Review November 2023:
(from the overall part of the anthology review): "these are dark stories would probably be an understatement. If you're looking for Hallmark-y, Disneyesque, cute meet, cliche HEA, then this is probably not for you. If you like creepy horror with your holiday fare then I can't recommend this anthology enough"
I said above that if you're looking for HEA this isn't the book for you but I think Davidson King's entry, Silent Knight(though more of a dark suspense than flat out horror) is probably as close to that HEA label as any horror collection can provide. Truth is, King's storytelling star shines bright in this perfect blend of dark, dreamy, and delicious. Destiny and holiday has rarely been darker.
Summary:
Mystics of Mistvale #2
A protective gargoyle who works as a bodyguard. A human chef in need of protection. A stalker that brings them together.
Vo
When my instincts reacted after overhearing a panicked phone call, all I could do was follow the human home and watch over him. Discovering he had a cute little daughter and someone was stalking him, I couldn't stop myself from offering my bodyguard services to him.
It didn't take me long to realize Trick was my mate, and once I did, nothing could stop me from making sure he and his daughter stayed safe, not bullets, poison, or anything else his stalker could throw at me.
Trick
When my sister got sick, I broke up with my boyfriend, left my job in New York and moved to Mistvale to take care of her and her newborn baby. Six months later, I lost my sister and became a father.
Lena and I were finally settling into life in Mistvale when someone started leaving notes at my door. When my babysitter called me in a panic, I knew I needed to do something. I'd do anything to keep my daughter safe, even hire a bodyguard. It didn't hurt that Vo was as hot as he was sweet.
The Vulnerable Human is a 55k MM romance featuring a gargoyle with strong protective instincts, a human with supreme cooking skills and an adorable daughter, a stalker who needs to be taught a lesson, and all the family vibes you expect from a Mistvale Town book.
Mystics of Mistvale is the third series set in the fictional town of Mistvale, and while each book in this series can be read as a standalone, characters from other books do pop in.
The chronological order for all the Mistvale books is available on the author's website.
Summary:
Haunted Souls #9
Ghost Detective Jude Byrne is enjoying a night out with friends and family on one of Salem’s famed ghost walks. It’s all fun and games until the last stop of the tour when he comes face to grave with Salem’s resident vampire, Kingston Gamble. The vampire tomb has several safeguards, including a grave cage, meant to keep him resting in peace.
Psychic Copeland Forbes senses a presence he’s never felt before in the old boneyard. Rattled by the experience, he rushes his family home, only to dream about the bloodsucker. Convinced the century-old creature of the night is waking up, Cope is anxious and on high alert.
When Kingston somehow escapes his fortified grave, it’s up to Jude and Cope to find the vampire. Along the way, they meet up with an old friend, Luca Pennington, who knows a thing or two about being Salem’s resident vampire.
Can Jude and Cope stop the vampire and the evil plan surrounding him, or will they become the newest attractions on Salem’s ghost walk?
Summary:
Cody travels from Metro City to the Caribbean island lair of Dr. Devious to look after the place while the supervillain is in space for the holidays ... and maybe to mend his broken heart. With Christmas fast approaching, Cody is desperate to avoid reminders of his recent disastrous breakup, and a few weeks of sun and relaxation sound perfect -- until a drunk (but very cute) superhero crashes the party by literally crashing onto the beach.
And that’s just the start of Cody’s problems -- angry shark-men, mysterious lava creatures, and a malfunctioning AI all make his holiday getaway anything but relaxing. Amid the chaos of his adventures in lair-sitting, though, Cody might find just what he needs -- a new chance at love, and a chance to be a hero for the holidays!
Original Review December 2018:
OMG!(And you know I am so NOT an "OMG-kinda-gal" so when I say OMG I mean O-M-G!!😉😉 I discovered Charles Payseur's Spandex and Superpowers series last Christmas and loved the originality of it. Well, Hero for the Holidays is just as original, not something you can often say by the fourth installment of a series. From Cody's landing on Dr. Devious' island to his first encounter with the drunk superhero who crashes while he's sunbathing au naturel to the television show All My Werewolves, everything just made me smile, laugh, and cheer. Let's face it, superheros and supervillains aren't exactly the first thing to come to mind when thinking of Holiday Romance but Charles Payseur makes it work and leaves you wanting for more. A perfect blend of rom-com, fantasy, and sci-fi makes Hero for the Holidays a must read, especially if you want something different this holiday. Can't wait to see what not-so-evil-doings he brings us next.
RATING: 
Mismatched Mates #1
Cursed, mated, and in for the fight of their lives…
Warlock Nate Hawthorne just wants a cup of coffee. Is that too much to ask? Apparently. Because instead of precious caffeine, all he gets is cursed by a pack of werewolves who want to use him for his magic. Now the only way to fix the damage is a mate bond to a grumpy and oh-so-sexy alpha in the rival pack, who happens to hate him. This is so not how he wanted to start his day.
Ian Armitage never intended to take Nate as his mate. The Hawthorne family can’t be trusted. Ian knows that better than anyone. The fact that he’s lusted after the way-too-gorgeous man for years? Totally irrelevant. Ian’s just doing what is necessary to protect his pack. This whole mating arrangement has nothing to do with love and never will. That’s his story and he’s sticking to it.
Nate and Ian will have to work together if they have any hope of staving off the pack’s enemies and averting disaster. That’s assuming they can stop arguing (and keep their hands off each other) long enough to save the day…
The Alpha’s Warlock is an explicit M/M paranormal romance featuring a snarky warlock, a brooding alpha werewolf, knotting, enchanted socks (long story), and a guaranteed happily ever after. This series does not contain mpreg.
Silent Knight by Davidson King
EZRA ACKER: AGE TEN
The first time it happened, I was ten. I was living with the Kimbers, my fifth foster family. I got off the school bus and started walking the five blocks to their house. It wasn’t in a great part of town and, Natalie, my foster-for-now mom, always said to keep my head down and walk fast. So, I did and never had a problem… until today.
I’d made it three blocks when I crashed into something solid. I fell backwards, my school bag flattened on the ground under me.
“You should watch where you’re walking.” I didn’t recognize the voice but when I looked up, I did recognize the face. Morris Fieldman. He was sixteen and loved bullying younger kids. He’d never bothered me before but likely because I stayed off his radar. Until now.
“Sssorry, Morris. I was trying to get home; dinner will be ready soon and I have to be on time.”
Morris’s laughter was cruel and that was when I noticed two other people with him. Them I didn’t know but it likely didn’t matter.
“It’s not really your home though is it, Ezra? You don’t have one, or a real family for that matter. Mommy and daddy didn’t want you and left you on the doorstep of a church like an afterschool special. Only, there’s no happily ever after for you, is there?”
I swallowed down my sobs as Morris taunted me and his friends laughed. When I made to get up, Morris pushed me down with his foot.
“Stay down there, that’s where dogs belong.”
A sound in the alley behind Morris made us all jump and when the three of them turned to see what it was, I didn’t pass up the opportunity. I grabbed my bag and ran faster than I ever had before.
The Vulnerable Human by Stella Rainbow
One
Vo
Stalking someone to protect them from a stalker hadn't been one of my better ideas.
I sat across the road from the chef's house, up on the roof of what was—rather coincidentally—Cassian's house. Cassian was a fire mage in my clan, and while we weren't friends per se, we'd shared a few conversations in the various clan celebrations over the months. I didn't think he would mind me lurking on his roof, if he actually managed to spot me.
Gargoyles were great at camouflaging themselves, and since Cassian's house was all stone, I could hide myself even more easily.
Now, why was I stalking this human chef? Honestly, I had no idea.
Earlier tonight, I'd gone to an Indian restaurant to celebrate my sort-of-nephew Neel's birthday with his brother, his dads, and my best friends, Alden and Quill, and Quill’s mates. It’d been chaotic and noisy, and extremely fun. I always enjoyed spending time with the people I called family, and I liked knowing they were safe. While I worked at a security firm to put my gargoyle instincts to good use, it'd been a while since I'd had a job, which meant my protective impulses were through the roof.
Which was why, when I’d overheard the human chef talking to someone on the phone and sounding absolutely terrified, I’d found myself following him home—at a distance, of course.
He'd come home to an adorable baby that he'd pulled into a hug the moment he stepped past the threshold, and the woman who'd been waiting for him had left after a few minutes. Babysitter, maybe?
I'd contemplated going up to his front door and offering my bodyguard services, but I had a feeling that would've appeared scary and weird rather than reassuring. A six-foot-three man showing up at your door right after your babysitter called you about some guy who wouldn't leave? Yeah, that would scare me off too, and I had enough muscles to bench-press a cow. Or Alden in his unicorn form.
Maybe I could go to his restaurant tomorrow. I could tell him I overheard his conversation and offer my services.
I wasn't sure what it was about this human that had caught my attention, other than the overwhelming aura of his fear. Something tugged at my protective instincts, though. Even as I sat watching his house, my insides were urging me to fly across the road, to make sure they were okay. If there wasn't the possibility of him noticing my gargoyle form and going, Huh. I didn't think I had any statues like that, I might've done just that.
When the sun came up, I'd been sitting there for close to eight hours, completely still in my gargoyle form except for my eyes that saw everything, scanning the road every few minutes. I'd watched Cassian’s son, Micah, sneak out of the back of their house around midnight and followed his journey to William and Raiden's house, where his mate Cam lived. I'd heard their parents were now allowing them to sleep in the same house but different rooms, so I couldn't imagine why they were sneaking around. If I had to guess, Micah had gotten caught up in one of Cam's pranks again, and now they were both paying the price.
The question was should I rat them out or not? But if I did, then I’d have to explain what I was doing on Cassian’s roof, and I didn’t want to admit what I was up to.
The door across the street opened at around 8:30, and I watched as the chef I’d been looking out for stepped out with a stroller, a happily babbling baby inside. The human smiled down at the baby as he locked the door, then scanned the streets before picking the stroller up and climbing down the three porch steps.
It was only now that I got my first good look at his face, so I took a moment to examine him. He was a handsome man, with long, vibrant reddish-brown hair that he'd clipped strands of to the top of his head, though most of it was loose. He had a thick—but trimmed—beard in the same shade, and his eyes were deep blue behind his brown-framed glasses.
He was a short man, probably 5′5″, but muscular, with thick biceps and arms that flexed as he carried the stroller down the steps. I would say he could take care of himself against whatever asshole was stalking him, but the problem was that he wasn't alone. He might've been able to fight off an attacker if he was alone, but with the baby, his first instinct would always be to protect them—as it should be—and that meant he'd leave himself open. Which was where I could come in, if I did this right.
Maybe I should talk to Quill's mate. Joy was a human, and if anyone could tell me if my idea was too crazy and if it would scare the human off, it was him. Then again, he'd followed a wolf shifter on a wild goose—wildwerewolf?—chase after a night of knowing him, so maybe not.
Joy's brother was more levelheaded though. Maybe I could ask him. Didn't he live somewhere around here?
I watched the human walk down the street, pushing the stroller ahead of him as he talked to the baby, who giggled at his every word, completely besotted. Other than their eyes, there was nothing similar between him and the baby with their wispy black hair and tawny skin, but the eyes were more than enough to show the kid was his.
Debating over whether or not I should follow, I decided against it. The streets would be pretty crowded with the morning rush, and I didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to try anything in broad daylight. Plus, since I couldn't exactly shadow him as a gargoyle, I'd have to do it in my human form, which might scare him off if he spotted me.
Nope, it would be better to just let them go.
Standing up, I shifted back to my human form and stretched, letting out a soft sigh. Even though I'd been awake all night, I felt more relaxed than I had in weeks, maybe even since my last job ended. My other form was an important part of me, and I got cranky if I had to go without it for too long.
My stomach growled, and I patted it comfortingly. Would it be too presumptuous if I showed up at Jai and Raphael's for breakfast? Then again, the Mistvale clan's motto seemed to be 'Help everyone,' so I had a feeling they wouldn't mind once they knew why I was there.
Trick
"You're going to get me in trouble one of these days, Lena," I admonished her, and she grinned up at me, her two barely-there rabbit teeth gleaming between a gummy smile. She'd been teething, which meant no sleep for me, changing absolutely disgusting diapers, and finding new things for her to chew. She'd grown an unnatural liking to munching on raw vegetables, and the pediatrician had assured me it was okay—when I'd called her at seven in the morning about it after not-so-patiently waiting since I woke up at 4 a.m.
I yawned before taking another sip of my coffee, a triple shot of espresso that would hopefully get me into working order. When I'd first moved here from New York to look after my sister and her baby six months ago, I'd left everything behind. My head chef job at a Michelin-star restaurant, my apartment in one of the fancy new buildings, and my asshole ex-boyfriend. Now that I'd been here for a while, I knew I'd dodged a bullet with that last one. I hadn't realized how controlling Stephen had gotten until I escaped him.
Losing Abigail two months ago had been difficult, but Lena hadn't really given me a chance to grieve. I'd turned from an uncle to a dad overnight, and I had no one to depend on but myself to take care of Lena. We had no parents to speak of, and Lena's birth father had never wanted to be in the picture, so I was all she had in the world.
Before she died, Abigail had made me promise her I'd be the father Lena deserved, that I would take care of her and love her like she was mine. I'd told Abigail I already did, and I'd meant it.
I tapped Lena's chubby cheek, and she giggled. She was sitting up in her stroller now, and she reached her tiny arm out, trying to grab my slice of chocolate cake.
"Already a sweet tooth, huh? You're learning well from Daddy," I said with a smile, ripping off a small piece from my cake and holding it out to her. She hoovered it up, chomping on the little piece and then shrieking happily. I winced, sneaking a glance at the other patrons in the coffee shop.
Two women sitting on a table nearby smiled over, and I ducked my head apologetically. The older of the two—a Black woman with muscles that put mine to shame and hair I would die for—waved me off, a warm smile on her face. The other woman, White with dark hair and bright blue eyes, grinned at me. "Don't worry about it. We've been where you are. I'm Rhiannon," she said, holding her hand out, and I reached over to shake it. "And this is my girlfriend, Rebba."
"Patrick, but you can call me Trick. This is Lena," I said, smiling over at Lena when she babbled her greeting. She hadn't said her first word yet, but I was hoping it would be Dada.
"Nice to meet you. Are you new in town?" she asked, and I pursed my lips.
"In a way, yes. I've been here for about six months, but I mostly go from home to work and vice versa, other than the days I come here for a coffee," I said, and then winced. Could they tell how starved for conversation I was?
At work, I was always either focused on the cooking or thinking about Lena. I ran a tight ship in the kitchen, which meant I didn't treat the staff like friends. They were my employees, and I kept that distinction very clear. They were also my only source of adult interaction most days, so the longest conversation I'd had in the last week was unfortunately when Anika, my babysitter, called me last night to tell me about the man lurking outside my door. If I didn't know for a fact Stephen had no idea where my sister had lived, I’d think it was him, but it couldn't be. He wouldn't leave his posh New York life to come looking for me in this small, cut-off town.
"That's life with young kids," Rhiannon said with a sigh, and Rebba chuckled.
"Ours are three-and-a-half years old. Absolute terror, both of them," she said, and Rebba smiled at her fondly.
"And we love them anyway," she said in a deep voice, a sentiment I could relate to.
"Twins?" I asked, a little reluctant to let this conversation end.
"Yeah. A boy and a girl," Rhiannon said with a proud smile, and I mentally patted their backs at raising two kids at the same time. I had no idea how they did it. They must have had some kind of superpower.
"It was nice to meet you, Trick. Maybe we'll see you around," Rhiannon said, and I realized they were done with their breakfast.
"Same. Thank you for the conversation," I said, and Rhiannon winked at me. As she walked past our table, she stopped near Lena's stroller, turning to look at me.
"May I?" she asked, reaching out a hand and hovering it near Lena's cheek as she waited for my permission. Smiling, I gave her a nod, and she brushed her fingers over Lena's cheek, cooing at her.
I blinked as I watched Lena. I must've been more sleep-deprived than I'd thought because I was sure I saw Lena glow, a faint sheen of blue covering her. I shook my head, and Lena was back to her usual self, blinking wide eyes at Rhiannon. Stupid imagination. God, I needed sleep. One hour. Even forty-five minutes would do.
Once I got home, maybe I could convince Lena to take a nap. She enjoyed sleeping beside me, and I liked her there too, but only after I'd built an impenetrable pillow fort around us so there was no way she could take a tumble while I slept.
Yeah, maybe a nap was in order. Especially since I'd need to be back at work soon. I'd used up all my vacation days when Abigail died, and while I had a good enough nest egg, I didn't want to dip into it if I could avoid it, and I also didn’t want to lose my job. The money I’d saved was for emergencies, and if not that, then for Lena's college, because apparently that was something I now needed to think and worry about.
Within a year, I'd gone from the fun uncle with the fancy job in the big city to the tired dad with a not-so-fancy job in this cozy little town, and as Lena made grabby hands at me from her stroller, I knew I didn't regret the change in the least.
Ghost Walk by Pandora Pine
PROLOGUE
Maximillian
September 1895…
Twelve slow gongs from a nearby church tower ushered in the witching hour. Heavy fog gave the bell peals an odd warbling effect. Clunking bootheels against cobblestones lent an eerie vibe, while the ringing footfalls could be heard, their owner could not be seen. At least not right away. The morning atmosphere was the horror of gothic novels come to life.
Maximillian Gamble asked himself for the hundredth time what he was doing here. From where he stood, in the dim circle of light cast off from his torch, he could make out the faces of his father, Richard Gamble, Doc Gleeson, and several deacons and members of Saint Ignatius Parish, including Father O’Leary. The rest of the group were mere shadows cloaked in fog.
The echoing footsteps belonged to Jack Stout, Salem’s resident grave digger. He’d been a last-minute addition to the party when Max’s father realized the party numbered thirteen. The deed was dark enough without adding the curse of thirteen into the mix.
Max asked himself for the one hundred first time what he was doing here on this cold, dank summer night. The breeze was off the ocean, making it feel as if autumn had wrapped her fist around Salem. A warm bed and a hot cup of tea awaited him at home. This errand was madness.
After the deaths of his mother, May, sisters Hannah, Naomi, and Ruth, and brother Kingston, the Gamble house no longer felt like a home. The halls were empty and far too quiet. If Max concentrated hard enough, he would swear he could feel his twin brother’s presence in the dark corridors of the house on Federal Street.
Hence the reason Max and the others were marching to the Broad Street Cemetery in the dead of night. Kingston had been the first member of the family to die. Consumption had been Doc Gleeson’s original diagnosis, but now, Max was not so sure it was correct. In the five years since Kingston had breathed his last labored breath, four members of their family had followed. Max had sat by helplessly as one loved one after the other tired, sickened, and died.
Similar cases were popping up all over New England. The Salem Gazette ran weekly stories about the atrocities. The first case was in Connecticut, and soon others were reported in Rhode Island. Rumors of similar happenings from New Hampshire and Vermont were spreading like wildfire.
Salem’s rocky relationship with mass hysteria and panic were well-chronicled. Eager to avoid a second brush with the paranormal, Mayor Wells Bradford had insisted this deed be done by the light of the next full moon. Word from Providence reported the gruesome ritual had been successful. Who was Max to argue with stone-cold facts?
With the last member of the party joining the group, Richard gave the command to move out. Flickering torches and swaying lanterns cast dim circles of light as the small party made their way to the graveyard near Gallows Hill, so named for the hangings which took place there during the Salem Witch Trials. Jack Stout led his horse cart by hand. Metal shovel heads clanked against pickaxes giving the march a macabre musical accompaniment.
Max felt the remains of his supper toss and turn in his gut. He should not be here. He should not be leading the charge. Unfortunately, he had no choice. If he were not the head of this nocturnal parade, the shadow of suspicion might fall upon him. Additionally, someone who loved Kingston, who remembered him from better days, needed to attend the grave.
From his spot at the head of the line, Max could hear whispers behind him. The word vampire floated up through the fog, making him shiver.
Hearing the epithet spoken aloud chilled Max to his bones. He quickly crossed himself. His father did likewise. To say the name of a thing out loud gave it power. As far as Max was concerned, the word had enough power as it was.
First had been Kingston. Max could never have imagined anything hurting more than losing his twin brother and best friend, but then his sister, Ruth, began coughing. It had gone on this way for the last five years with one member of the Gamble family becoming sick and succumbing. Max and his father were the only two left. Unless Max missed his guess, half of the reason Richard had agreed to this midnight madness was out of fear either he or Max would be next.
Vampire… Max shivered in the damp night as the word echoed in his brain. Was it possible Kingston was undead? Was his beloved brother the reason their mother and sisters had followed King into early graves? The mere thought was beyond comprehension.
The swaying lantern on Jack Stout’s horse cart threw light forward in jittery bursts, making Max’s shadow dance in a grotesque manner. His trudging left foot caught on a cobblestone, pitching him forward. Richard’s hand shot out to grab his arm.
“Steady, boy,” the elder Gamble cautioned.
Regaining his balance, Max straightened to his full height. “Every step forward is another closer to an appointment I do not want to keep.”
“No one wants to make this trip. Foot-dragging will not stop the task. It will only prolong our agony.” Richard’s voice was filled with sorrow. Trekking to the cemetery was the last place the grieving father and husband wanted to be.
Max thought over his father’s words. Their lives had been an agony from King’s first cough. At first, it had been a bother. A tickle in his throat soothed with dozens of cups of tea. No one had been particularly alarmed until his cough became a nuisance, producing blood, which was an undeniable sign of tuberculosis. The condition was also known as consumption, as the disease consumed a body until there was nothing left. In short, the diagnosis was a long, slow, painful death sentence.
The hoot of a great horned owl brought Max back to the present. He’d somehow fallen to the back of the pack as the others trudged up the short rise to the cemetery. Heavy chains clanked and were followed by the soul-piecing squeal of the rusty gates being pushed open. Max crossed himself again.
After losing first his brother, then four other members of his family, Max knew God had abandoned not only him, but the entire Gamble family. Neither God, nor the saints in heaven, could save him from what was about to happen.
The crowd stopped at the Gamble family plot. From where Max was standing, he could hear Father O’Leary praying for the souls of his family, above and below ground. Max listened along, saying “amen” dutifully and crossing himself again.
Next came the shovels and pickaxes. Jack Stout passed shovels to Max and Richard, while he kept the axes for himself and Brigham St. Pierre, the brawniest member of Saint Ignatius.
A feeling of numbness stole over Max as the two men began hacking away at Kingston’s grave. King had been Max’s best friend and partner in crime. With a house full of sisters, they’d always gone adventuring together. A backswing of the pickaxe clanked off King’s headstone setting off a rush of sparks.
Max took a step forward, intending to give Brigham a piece of his mind. This was his brother’s place of rest, not a plot of land to pull apart and abuse. Richard grabbed his harm, keeping Max back from the blades of the swinging axes.
“Your turn,” Jack said, panting. He grabbed a jug from the back of his wagon and took a long sip from it before passing it to Brigham.
“We dig up Kingston’s grave and they drink?” Max muttered under his breath.
“Listen to me, son. You know what is at stake here. Kingston’s immortal soul and maybe ours as well. Keep your mouth shut and dig. It is all we can do.” With those words, Richard buried the head of his shovel into the loosened ground and pulled out a shovelful.
Even in the dead of night, it was hot work. Max’s jacket soon joined his father’s on the back of the horse cart. His shoulders ached, while blisters formed on his fingers, but Max obeyed his father. He kept his mouth shut and kept digging.
After what felt like forever, Max’s shovel hit something hard. He looked up at his father, who was across the grave. Both men knew what the sound meant. They’d found Kingston’s coffin. The rest of the party gathered around the hole. Lanterns swung over the abyss as the lid became visible. The priest began to pray.
Max listened, the feeling of numbness increasing. This moment felt like a dream. Any second now, the cocks would begin to crow, waking him for another day of work on the farm. The look of pure devastation on his father’s face convinced Max this moment was all too real. He’d decided last night he would be the one to take action if Kington’s remains were like the ones dug up in Hartford and Providence.
A shaft of moonlight shone on the bare coffin lid. The earlier fog had blown over, leaving a chilly night in its place. Stars glittered like diamonds, while the full moon was the star of the show. Max could smell the ocean. He had a feeling the scent of the salty air would be preferable to what awaited him in the coffin.
His last memory of his twin was King on his deathbed. His usually bright blue eyes had been ringed in red and sunken back into his head. Dark circles under each eye contrasted with King’s pale skin which made him look skeletal. When the end had blessedly come, he’d been too weak to hold on to the family who had clung to him.
Kingston’s last day had been five years ago. Max had no idea what he would see when the lid was pried open.
Movement to Max’s right caught his attention. Father O’Leary was praying over a crowbar while the assembled crowd watched in hushed silence. As the last amen escaped the priest’s mouth, he started splashing liquid over the bar before dumping the rest of it on the lid of the coffin.
Holy water, Max thought to himself. Nothing happened when the blessed drops splashed onto the wood. He hadn’t expected lightning to strike or the angels to sing, since Kingston was most definitely not undead.
“It is time, son.” Richard gripped Max’s shoulder tightly.
Nodding, Max took the crowbar from Father O’Leary. He climbed gingerly into the grave, wedging his feet in the softened earth on either side of the wooden box.
Slipping the flat end of the crowbar between the box and lid, Max levered upward with all his strength. The screeching nails brough Max out in goosebumps. He felt his heart stop beating for the briefest second. His rational brain knew what caused the sound, but with all this talk about vampires, Max couldn’t help wondering, briefly, if the noise was otherworldly.
As quickly as he could, Max managed to pry up the rest of the nails. He handed the crowbar back to his father. The next step was to lift the lid and reveal Kingston’s remains. Cold sweat trickled down his back. Max shivered again when he heard Father O’Leary start to recite the Twenty-third Psalm. “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want…”
Max felt no comfort in those old familiar words. Kingston had been a man of faith. Psalms was his favorite book of the Bible. He could often be heard singing verses as he worked in the field. Max hoped those words comforted his brother’s soul.
Scooting over to the right side of the coffin, Max lifted the lid, pushing it until it fell over the other side. Max shut his eyes and asked God to forgive him. Gasps from the men gathered around the open grave made Max open his eyes before he was finished talking to God. What he saw in the coffin took his breath away. “King?” Max muttered. He blinked several times, making sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.
Even though he’d been dead for five years, Kingston looked just as he had before the first tell-tale cough. His cheeks were pink with the early autumn chill. Kingston looked as if he were sleeping. Gone were the dark circles ringing his eyes. Looking down, King’s hands were still folded over his chest, his prized rosary looped around fingers which were no longer shriveled with disease or death.
“Our Father who art in heaven…” Father O’Leary started to pray.
Max knew prayers weren’t going to save any of them, least of all Kingston. How was it possible his twin looked this robust after so many years underground?
The praying got louder. Other voices joined Father O’Leary’s chorus. He’d moved on to the Fifty-sixth Psalm. “For you have rescued me from death; you have kept my feet from slipping. So now I can walk in your presence, O God, in your life-giving light…”
“You know what you have to do, son.” Richard held out a long-handled axe. It trembled in his grip as he passed it to his son.
Max did know what he had to do. He and his father had gone over it several times with Father O’Leary and the church elders. Knowing what must be done and doing it were two different things. His heart was pounding so hard Max was certain he was going to have an apoplectic fit and end up in the coffin alongside his brother.
“I love you, King. Please forgive me.” Max swung the axe high above his head. Without pausing, he brought it down.
Hero for the Holidays by Charles Payseur
The feed disappeared, and Cody was left with the same list of names as before. Only there didn’t seem to be anything on the list that covered mutant shark-men. Cody sighed and deflated. So much for getting help that way. Who could possibly have had experience with a gang of mutant shark-men?
Cody suddenly perked up again. A superhero might! Superheroes fought things like mutant shark-men all the time. And there just so happened to be a superhero Cody could ask. He raced back to the containment cell.
Sonny was pacing when Cody arrived, and the look of relief on his face was enough to make Cody pause, words dying in his throat.
“What happened?” Sonny blurted out. “There were explosions and the alarms stopped and after that, just silence, and I thought something must have happened to you.”
Sonny’s words had come out in a stream, and Cody blushed at the near-panic in them. He hadn’t realized that Sonny would be so concerned. Probably he should have. Probably he should have realized that after spending so much time together the last few days, Sonny might ... care.
Cody sucked in a breath, a whole slew of thoughts that were far too premature trying to claw their way into his brain. “I’m sorry. A shark-man named Finn broke through the front door while the defenses were down and I had to stall him until Aubrey came back online. Then I tried to use the communications here to ask for help, but that didn’t really work out. Aubrey says she’s going to be offline again, and that means that if the shark-men come back -- there’s apparently a whole gang of them looking for something called the Heart of the Arctic -- then we’re in big trouble.”
“Tell me everything.”
Sonny absorbed the words without question, nodding along as Cody continued to speak, relaying everything that had happened. For Cody, it was like handing off a burden he hadn’t realized was weighing him down. He wasn’t a superhero, wasn’t a villain, was just a guy hoping to get away for the holidays. This wasn’t his world, but it was Sonny’s, and having him there to talk to, to treat Cody like he wasn’t completely weird, was suddenly very important.
“I’ve never had much dealings with any shark-men,” Sonny said, “but it sounds like they had some sort of agreement with Dr. Devious that went bad. Which is possibly why the island was moved from the Pacific Ocean to here in the Caribbean.”
“Wait, what? The island was moved?” Cody had never heard of an entire island being moved before.
“We’re not entirely sure how,” Sonny said, “but yeah. It used to be part of a chain of islands up closer to Alaska. We thought maybe he just wanted to get to a warmer climate, but the entire island just sort of sailed all the way down around South America and then back up here. It was a pretty big international incident, but the governments kept things hushed because they didn’t want to cause a panic. Besides, Dr. Devious has mellowed out some recently, so no one tried to stop the move.”
Mellowed thanks, no doubt, to his relationship with Sanjay. But it fit with what Finn had said about swimming so far. If the deal was what Devious had been running from, then he must have assumed he’d gotten away with whatever it was. Unfortunately for Cody, that didn’t seem to be the case.
“Well, what do you suggest?” Cody asked. “We can’t just do nothing. And Aubrey won’t be any help if she’s offline again.”
Sonny inhaled deeply. “First thing we need to do is to find some way to stay in contact. I can’t do anything from inside this cell, and I can’t stand the thought you’d have to face this all alone.”
He looked at Cody, and there was a moment of electricity between them that had nothing to do with the containment field. Cody’s face heated, and his pulse quickened. He imagined leaning into Sonny, feeling those strong hands around him. He imagined Sonny lifting him into the sky, flying him far away to safety. He imagined --
“I can go search Dr. Devious’s labs,” Cody said before his thoughts could venture too far into desperate horny territory.
Sonny stroked his chin. “You’ll have to be careful. Those labs are probably full of incredibly dangerous devices. He might not have left too much out in the open, but regardless, don’t take any unnecessary risks.”
Cody smiled. “What could go wrong?”
The Alpha's Warlock by Eliot Grayson
It had been years since I set foot in the Armitage pack’s territory, and I’d hoped to keep that winning streak going for a while longer. Of course, being kidnapped and cursed had a way of changing your plans.
Not that I was really setting foot in it now, more like setting hands and knees. I’d fallen so many times that I’d stopped trying to get back up, and was just crawling through the thick, loamy mud under the drenched forest canopy.
The patter of chill rain on the back of my neck was bad enough, every drop sending new shivers down my spine, but my soaked jeans were chafing in every direction and on every sensitive bit of me. Why had I worn skinny jeans this tight again? Oh, right, going out clubbing, and not planning on being kidnapped and cursed. Mud squelched through my fingers and seeped into my ankle boots.
I’d been so careless, so arrogant. My father, such as he was, had been dead for two glorious years, and the magic he’d stolen from me all my life was finally back where it belonged. I could take anyone, right? A powerful young warlock, paranoid as only years of living in the shadow of a criminal with a lot of enemies could make me.
And all it took was a few drops of witchbane poison in my fruity cocktail.
So impressive. My father, may he rot in hell, would be laughing his freaking ass off.
With a grunt and a pitiful moan, I lurched from crawling to belly-flopping in the mud. A wet and filthy rotting leaf poked into my mouth, and I spat it out, my stomach heaving as the flavor of mold burst on my tongue. I wasn’t going to make it. Where the hell were the pack’s perimeter guards? Someone had to patrol this huge territory, what with rival packs only a few miles away and a master vampire and his brood in the next town over.
Especially since one of those rival packs had snatched me from the club, and especially especially since they’d done it as the first step in a plot against the Armitage pack.
Or at least so I’d gathered as they chained me up in an abandoned warehouse, drew a circle of burnt celandine, and had their pack shaman start a ritual nauseatingly similar to the one my father used to do every month at the new moon.
“Armitage can’t defend against this,” one of the werewolves in the corner of the room had said to another, gesturing my way. “Once his energy’s bound to yours, he’ll have all your resilience and all his powers, all under your control. He’ll be the perfect weapon.”
He’d sounded like he was trying to talk the other were out of some serious doubts about the plan. I thought the other were was probably the smart one, since I had some serious doubts myself.
Strike that, I had no doubts at all. I was going to die here in the forest, my magic drained out of me by this fucking curse, my body withered away to nothing and sinking into the mud until only a few bones wrapped in skinny jeans remained.
And then I heard the growl.
It was the kind of sound that would make any human’s nervous system go into overdrive; it had a low, throbbing undertone to it that raised all the hairs on the back of my neck. I managed to turn my head and peer into the pre-dawn gloom. A pair of glowing golden eyes looked back at me, set in the face of a wolf with his (probably his, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to try to inspect) teeth bared.
Finally. Jesus, would it kill them to keep a better eye on their borders?
“I’m Nate Hawthorne,” I rasped faintly, drowned out by the rain. It didn’t matter. With the wolf’s supernatural hearing, I could have been twice the distance away and he’d have heard me as well as if I’d had a microphone. “I need to see Matthew Armitage.” The wolf stared me down. My head started to spin, and I dropped down, my cheek hitting the ground with a splat. “Take me to your leader.” I started to giggle, my chest heaving as the laughter morphed into sobs, the curse draining more of my life away. I could feel it like a physical tug on every vein and nerve.
The wolf tipped his head back and let out a long howl, a call that probably carried all the way to the other edge of the pack’s territory. And then he came a cautious couple of steps closer, sniffed me, let out a disgusted huff, and settled on his haunches a few feet away.
He was waiting for someone, then. Backup. Maybe, hopefully, someone who could find me a shower and a borrowed pair of boxers. At least he wasn’t ripping out my throat.
I probably passed out for a few minutes, because between one second and the next, another wolf was prowling out of the forest. Even with the rising sun hidden behind clouds, and even with my vision as bleary as it was, I could see that he was enormous, easily half again as large as the first. Most of the werewolves I’d seen fully shifted had some shade of gray fur, but this one had a coat like a tawny owl, variegated hues of brown and tan, dappled like sunlight through trees.
The wolf came right up to me with a nonchalant saunter that was more than a little insulting. To be fair, if I’d been a giant predator with four-inch razor-sharp retractable claws, I probably wouldn’t have been too terrified of the twink in skinny jeans lying in the mud like a lump, either.
He sniffed me like the other werewolf had, and then shoved one dinner plate-sized paw under my shoulder and flipped me like a pancake. An expression that in a human would be utter horror and disbelief was oddly clear even on that lupine face. His lips drew back, exposing a wicked set of fangs.
“I need to see Matthew,” I choked out, hoping to convince him before he ripped my guts out and had his minion throw me down a ravine. I hadn’t meant to tell the details of the story to anyone but the leader of the Armitage pack, for the sake of discretion, but…wasn’t saving your own ass the better part of discretion? Or something? “I was kidnapped. By the Kimball pack, and it had something to do with your pack, and Jesus you don’t need to kill me —” My voice rose to a squeak as he leaned in, his teeth fully on display, his enormous muzzle way, way too fucking close for comfort.
But he didn’t bite, just sniffed me again, from my head all the way down to my feet, pausing at my wrists. Finally he let out a surprised-sounding huff.
A second later his huge form blurred, rippled, and reshaped into a man nearly as enormous compared to other humans as his wolf form was compared to garden-variety wolves. Messy auburn hair curled around his temples, and his freckles might have given him an air of innocence if it weren’t for the cold, pale blue eyes. Oh, and the shoulders and chest bulging with muscle. And the claws.
Either way, I knew he was the opposite of innocent, and I knew damn well who he was.
My heart sank. Ian Armitage. My dead ex-lover Jared’s best friend and cousin, the pack leader’s second in command, and one of the most feared werewolves in northern California. And he hated me.
The curse might still try to kill me, but now it would probably have to get in line.
Ian flexed his hand, extended his gleaming claws, and laid them gently across my throat. My vision blurred as my heart rate shot into the stratosphere.
“What the fuck are you doing here? One flicker of a lie, and you’ll be dead in seconds.”
I had to struggle for breath before I could answer, and that was irritating as hell. Yes, I was less than thrilled to have a supernatural apex predator about to rip out my jugular, but mostly I was just cursed. And having him interpret my shortness of breath as pure terror was plain embarrassing.
“You can smell them on me, can’t you? The Kimballs,” I panted, and he nodded, his grip on my throat tightening a nearly-puncturing-my-veins fraction. “They kidnapped me. And they started some kind of —” Deep breath. “Ritual.” I forced another breath into my lungs. “I need to see Matthew.”
Was the sun going down again? That wasn’t right. It was just coming up. But everything had gotten darker.
Yeah, I was passing out. Everything went black, and Ian’s furious face was the last thing I saw.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she’d tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you’re afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
Stella Rainbow is the pen name of a twenty something woman from India. Her heart is too full of rainbow colored stories to be limited by the lack of awareness in her home country.
Stella spends her days cuddling up with her cat, typing out new stories, daydreaming and reading all the books she can get her hands on.
She loves talking to her readers and other book lovers, so don't hesitate in contacting her on any of her socials or emailing her at authorstellarainbow@gmail.com.
Sick of the slogging rat-race of her 9-5 job, Pandora Pine put pen to paper (literally!) to make her ambition of becoming a romance novelist a reality. She cut her teeth in the dog-eat-dog world of fan fiction, still dreaming of the day when she would be a published author.
In her spare time, Pandora fancies herself an amateur nature photographer. She enjoys mucking around in swamps, hiking through the woods and crawling around on her hands and knees in her backyard seeking out the perfect shot. Pandora is a fan of roadside seafood shacks and always thinks Mexican food is a good idea at the time.
Some of Pandora's favorite things are chocolate, writing longhand with purple pens, and handsome men falling in love with each other.
Charles PayseurCharles Payseur is an avid reader, writer, and reviewer of speculative fiction. His works have appeared in The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy, Lightspeed Magazine, and Beneath Ceaseless Skies, among others, and many are included in his debut collection, The Burning Day and Other Strange Stories (Lethe Press 2021). He is the series editor of We’re Here: The Best Queer Speculative Fiction (Neon Hemlock Press) and a multiple-time Hugo and Ignyte Award finalist for his work at Quick Sip Reviews. When not drunkenly discussing Goosebumps, X-Men comic books, and his cats on his Patreon (/quicksipreviews) and Twitter (@ClowderofTwo), he can probably found raising a beer with his husband, Matt, in their home in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.
Steamy books with delicious tension, heart-wrenching pining, and a hefty dose of action and adventure have always been Eliot’s jam as a reader and author.
Find out more about Eliot’s books or sign up for an occasional newsletter on her website, or come follow along on Instagram. Happy reading!
Stella Rainbow
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Silent Knight by Davidson King
The Vulnerable Human by Stella Rainbow
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Hero for the Holidays by Charles Payseur
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The Alpha's Warlock by Eliot Grayson
