

When a traumatized mining foreman is placed under the psychiatric care of Dr. Vincent Armstrong, the doctor thinks...
Every town has its secrets, but no one has a secret like hers. Amber Blackwood, lifelong resident of Edgehill, Oregon, has earned a ...
Amber Blackwood, lifelong resident of Edgehill, Oregon, has earned a reputation for being a semi-reclusive odd duck. Her store, The Quirky Whisker, is full of curiosities, from extremely potent sleepy teas and ever-burning candles to kids’ toys that seem to run endlessly without the aid of batteries. The people of Edgehill think of the Quirky Whisker as an integral part of their feline-obsessed town, but most give Amber herself a wide berth. Amber prefers it that way; it keeps her secret safe. But that secret is thrown into jeopardy when Amber’s friend Melanie is found dead, a vial of headache tonic from Amber’s store clutched in her hand.
Edgehill’s newest police chief has had it out for Amber since he arrived three years before. He can’t possibly know she’s a witch, but his suspicions about her odd store and even odder behavior have shot her to the top of his suspect list. When the Edgehill rumor mill finds out Melanie was poisoned, it’s not only the police chief who looks at Amber differently. Determined to both find justice for her friend and to clear her own name, Amber must use her unique gifts to help track down Melanie’s real killer. A quest that threatens much more than her secret …
When the body of the local girl, Misty Crawl, is found dismembered in an underground bunker, the town is thrown into a whirlwind of panic...
New Pittsburgh, 1898 – a crucible of invention and intrigue. Born from the ashes of devastating fire, flood and earthquake, th...
The Hunt
“I wish Falken would quit sending us out to look for agents that vanished,” Mitch Storm grumbled.“Maybe he’s hoping we’ll be the next ones to disappear,” Jacob Drangosavich replied. He shifted his tall frame to get more comfortable in his seat as the rail car swayed. “If you hadn’t let Kesterson get away, Falken wouldn’t have had a reason to send us to the godforsaken far north.”“I had a sighting inside the building, and the dynamite brought the roof down. That should have stopped him cold. How was I supposed to know he’d gotten into the storm drain?”Mitch Storm was average height, with a trim, muscular build. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and a five o’clock shadow that started at three. Mitch was exactly what a penny-dreadful novelist would imagine a government secret agent and former army sharpshooter would look like.Jacob, on the other hand, was tall and lanky, with a thin face, blond hair, and blue eyes that spoke of his Eastern European heritage. He and Mitch had been agents for the Department of Supernatural Investigation since they had returned east after the rancher wars.The click-clack of iron wheels on the rails confirmed that they were making good time. Outside, the Adirondack Mountains were covered with snow. “How long do you think Falken will keep us on probation?” Jacob asked.Mitch shrugged. “It was four months the last time, two the time before that. So I wager we’re up to six months.”“Why did you use dynamite?” Jacob asked, in an off-handed tone.Mitch rolled his eyes. “I was improvising.”“Might it be possible to improvise a little less… enthusiastically next time? Sooner or later, Falken will give up on suspending us and just convene a firing squad.”“The Department doesn’t use those anymore,” Mitch replied. “I checked.”Jacob thought of a dozen arguments, but he knew Mitch was unlikely to heed them. He dropped back against his seat. “At least we got a sleeper train and a private cabin. Where do you think Kesterson will go next?”“Not really our concern, is it? Falken made that pretty clear.” Mitch was quiet for a moment. “But Kesterson had some family in New England. Since we’re all the way up here in the New York hinterland, I figured we might poke around a little after we finish our assignment—strictly off the record.”
When the dead rise, he'll either find his family or end up a ravenous corpse… Fifteen-year-old James would much rather ...
The back door to the building is on the other side of the dumpster. It’s ajar. Blood trails out and around to the opposite side of the store.
As we approach, I notice bloody hand prints around the door handle and wall. Not what I wanted to see. We could stop, get back to the truck, and make for the next station, but it could be just as bad, or worse, we could run out of gas and get stranded out here.
We’re here, and haven’t seen any chasers roaming around. We just need to keep our eyes peeled and ears open.
“Stay close,” I quietly speak to Duke.
Gregory and his little sister Imogen love spending Halloween with their parents. But this year is different. If he pro...
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