MAGICK BY TERESA FEDERICI (COMING DECEMBER 2014)
Book Two in the Immortals and Magick Trilogy!
Teagan Callahan knows deceit when she sees it, and when she starts dreaming of a devious vampire, she knows that it isn’t really a dream. The question is, how and why is he infiltrating her dreams? With the help of Noah Jacobs, the sexy wizard she loves to hate, she’ll find out.
As her dreams escalate from bad to deadly, she and Noah work to find an answer-and to fight the growing attraction that has constantly plagued their love-hate relationship. Will they find the answer to save Teagan?
Fear (working title) : Emma Lucas is on the run from a madman–
She went back to the diner and picked up her meal. The men were still there, and they turned to look at her again, but gave her only a cursory glance this time. She released the tension she didn’t realize she was still holding onto and left the diner at a fast walk, her boots striking the surface of the black-top, assaulting her with echoes that bounced off the trucks surrounding her. The fear was building back in her, reaching new levels of terror. She saw her truck, was only seconds from reaching it, cursing herself for parking so far away, won’t do that again, when she heard her name whispered. It came from nowhere and everywhere, and instead of spurring her on, it froze her in her tracks. She stood stock still, eyes wide, nostrils flared, prey sensing the predator. She heard the scrape of shoes against pavement and the furtive movement of someone coming up behind her slowly.
She fought back the immobilizing fear, turned it into something more productive. She heard her name whispered again, in a harsh sing-song and a rough chuckle. Were the bastards toying with her? What kind of sick bastard had she been married to that would go this far to get her?
She transferred her keys into her right hand, the big truck key poking out between her forefinger and middle finger, her movements slight. She knew what she was up against, knew that the men coming up behind her were the ones from the diner. They had been careless, had let her size them up, but what did they care? She was just a woman, she couldn’t hurt them. She was about to prove them wrong.
Her ears listening for the slightest variation of sound, she knew they were right behind her. She gathered her clothes and bag, reseated the key in it’s position between her fingers, and twisted suddenly, throwing her clothes and bag at the two men that came out of the dark between two big trucks. It startled them, but not for long. The taller of the two came at her, and Emma hauled back with her right arm and using all her weight punched him in the face with the protruding key. He screamed and grabbed his cheek where the key had dug a furrow in it, blood running freely over his hands. His buddy was fazed momentarily by that, which gave Emma the space of a second to turn and run for her truck, but he recovered and ran after her.
Solstice: Immortals and Magick Book 3
My mother, a full blooded Native American, was a curious woman. While she embraced her ancestry, she was also thoroughly modern. We had the latest in every comfort and convenience, and the faculty parties she threw for my father were always hailed as civilized and cosmopolitan.
I remember many a night when I would sit in my room, banished for the evening due to the glittering affair downstairs, and close my eyes but still see the people dressed in their faculty-party best. My mother was well aware of my talents from an early age. My father took some convincing.
My father was a professor of Literature at the University of New Hampshire in Manchester, and eventually the head of the department. I remember him as a quick-to-smile gentle man, who loved the dusty, leather-bound books that graced his study as much as he loved my mother and I. No stuffy tweed-draped professor facade for my father; to watch him teach was to watch someone completely enraptured of literature, awestruck by the creation of fiction, and he taught his eager young students with fervor and a bit of hilarity.
From him I was gifted with the love of the written word and his green eyes. From my mother, I received the gift of incredible fashion sense and her ability to read minds and converse with the spirit world.
Hunter (working title): What would happen if the monsters were real? Would there be someone (or something) out there to protect us?
As her shirt came over her head, she felt eyes on her. She stopped in mid-movement, arms crossed protectively over her chest. She faced the wall, her back to the wide picture window in her bedroom, and that’s where the feeling of being watched came from. Goosebumps ran down her arms and across her shoulders and the hair on the back of her neck raised in alarm.
For the first time since they had moved to the country, she wished for blinds or curtains on the windows to block out the dark night. With no clue who could be out there watching her, she tried to make her frozen limbs move, tried to shake off the feeling that whatever was out there was evil. It was probably just an animal, passing through the night cloaked backyard, on its way to the woods that flanked the property.
She slowly turned in increments, first her feet, then legs and torso, and finally her head, swiveling slowly on her tense neck. She itched to pull the shirt back over her head but didn’t want to block her vision for the second it would take the shirt to clear her head.
She knew she was being silly, knew there was nothing out there in the shadow filled night. The security light attached to the barn shed enough light to illuminate the back of the house, and from the light-filled safety of the bedroom she could see there was nothing out there. The line of trees marking the beginning of the woods didn’t benefit from the security light, but if there was something out there, she would have plenty of time to get the shotgun from the closet before whatever it was reached the house.
She looked at the clock over the bed and gave a sigh of relief. Her husband would be home shortly, and they could have a laugh over her baseless fear. To prove to herself that nothing was out there, she walked to the window, swallowing her fear and yanking the shirt over her head, and peered into the darkness.
There were eyes glowing in the woods.
It took her a moment to pick them out, because they were in the wrong spot for an animal. They were too high up in the air. Rising roughly seven feet in the air, the two pair of large, glowing green eyes studied her as she studied them. The sight of them froze her in place again. Her mind, however, was not frozen. She thought frantically of what could be seven foot tall with glowing green eyes, but drew a complete blank. She started to shake violently under their malevolent gaze, but her feet would not move. The closet was ten steps away, the loaded Winchester sitting uselessly inside if she couldn’t bring herself to move to it.
The eyes were motionless, occasionally blinking languidly, as though the mind behind them knew she wasn’t going anywhere. A feeling of evil soaked into her, saturated her bones, held her as still as a statue.
The house went dark.