Dreams of the Cursed
Book #2 of the Dreamer series
A secret war has waged underneath the notice of humanity since the beginning. The Warriors inherited this fight and are honor bound to rid the world of an ancient evil by guarding the most precious, piercing light against the darkness – their female kin known as the Oracles.
Chantal Breelan has suffered from horrific nightmares for most of her life, believing something to be wrong with her to have such visions of destruction. But when creatures of darkness came crawling out of the shadows to hunt her down, her dreams became reality.
Now, Chantal has picked up the reigns of her birthright and stood by her Warrior kin. She’s on a mission to rescue others like herself. Yet in this challenge a battle of wits is exposed. New players are discovered, throwing strategies into question. When the truth comes to light, can Chantal hold her band of brothers together, or will they crumble under the weight of betrayal.
Coming Fall, 2013
“Come here, my dear.” Merclain smiled at her,revealing yellowing, crooked teeth. “Let me get you to a safe place.”
“Yeah, no thanks.” Chantal laughed. “But if you both survive, tell my brother, Damon, I said hi.”
“It is her, Merc!” Bubba pointed at her like a bonafide moron. Chantal smiled at them and bowed low with their arms held wide.
“The oldest known Oracle at your service.”
Both men began walking toward her slowly, pulling their own weapons from beneath their jackets. Bubba held a stumpy blade with a square tip and gnarly looking sawtooth edges. Merclain clutched a curved sword Chantal had seen in that movie about the Spartans with half-naked men. She didn’t pay much attention to the plot, much to Mathias’s annoyance. In any case, neither of their weapons held a candle to her lightweight katana, and she fingered the well-suited hilt with a familiarity that felt almost cathartic.
“Let’s get her, Merc!”
“Oh, come now. Do you really think I’m that stupid?” The men split up, trying to approach her at both sides. “Do I look like I’m stupid?” Merclain and Bubba stayed silent, assessing. “I’ll tell you what, let’s make a deal. If you two morons can defeat me, I’ll go with you. That no-good brother of mine will love you both. Throw you a parade or something.” The two men exchanged a loaded glance,and Bubba smiled like he’d won the lottery. “But, if I kick both of your pansy asses . . . well . . . I guess that’s just an overall win for me.”
“That doesn’t seem like a fair trade, my dear.” Merclain now stood five feet away, Bubba cutting off any escape to her right.
“It doesn’t seem like you boys are into equality.” Chantal pushed off the headstone and took a couple steps toward them. “Two grown men against helpless little girls. Let’s just say I’m evening the odds.”
“You think you can take both of us?” Bubba guffawed, his belly shaking like pudding. Chantal smiled wickedly.
In the blink of an eye, the fight had been won, yet to Chantal, she could see it precisely as if it had been choreographed.
The attack came at her quick from the back and the front simultaneously. Merclain brought his scimitar down toward her head with a vicious swing. Chantal blocked the hit and countered it with an aggressive twist of her wrist, dispelling the weapon. In a flash, she spun on her heel and went down on bended knee, slicing her sword horizontally across both of Bubba’s shins as he tried to grab her from behind, amputating both legs below the knee. Bubba fell and clutched at the gushing wounds, his weapons clattering to the ground. Chantal spun back to Merclain just as he attempted to strike and plunged her blade deep into his ribs. Eyes rounded with shock, the oddly thin solider fell to the ground and dark crimson fluid bubbled from his mouth.
“You see?” Chantal gripped her sword and wiped her brow, smearing a streak of blood across her face. “Now that’s how you be cocky.”
Adrenaline zinged through her system but the red haze of rage she’d experienced with her first fight with the Kajola hadn’t appeared. Looking at both of her victims writhing on the ground from their mortal wounds, Chantal sheathed her blade,confident they were unable to come after her.
“You can’t keep them hidden from us,” Merclain spat at her, pink foam brimming at his mouth.
“You’re too late.”
“You’re not in much of a position to offer me threats.”
Merclain laughed, more a gurgling wheeze, and pointed to something behind her. Chantal turned to see the orange sun setting behind the horizon. The Shade would open at dusk and Chantal’s heart clenched in panic.
The girls . . .