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- Herausgeber: Crescent Moon Studios, Inc.
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
Gourds galore as Misty and company find themselves vine-deep in trouble. Halloween approaches and the sweet smells of autumn permeate the air. There’s the husked corn, the ripened fruit, and the squash fields torn to shreds by an unknown and hoofed assailant. Misty and Roland dive into the pumpkin-patch mystery and find they might have bit off more rind than they can chew when they’re faced with a most foul and unexpected creature.
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Leg of Lycan
Vampire Soul, Book Five
Mac Flynn
Copyright © 2019 by Mac Flynn
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Continue the adventure
Other series by Mac Flynn
1
It never ceased to amaze me how crazy the paranormal world was. This adventure was no exception.
This fun started in the same blood vein as the rest of our adventures: with me at the diner minding my own normal human business. The bell over the door rang at eight o’clock and I looked over the counter to see Jack walk in. He was one of the truckers for the local farmers, and I was surprised to see him that early.
“One of the plagues of Egypt come over the crops?” I asked him as he took a seat on a stool.
He smiled. “No, but I did hear old Ben Carter mutter something about a curse.”
“Old Ben lose his contracts with those big businesses?” I asked him. Ben Carter was one of the wealthier farmers in the area because of his contracts with some big-box stores. He supplied them with fruit and they supplied him with dough, and everyone could eat.
Jack shook his head. “Nope, he’s still got them, but he doesn’t have any gourds to give to them. Can I get a cup of sludge with a side of heartburn and white dust?”
“Sure thing. So we’re talking the blight plague?” I teased as I filled a mug of coffee and wrote down an order of fried steak with mashed potatoes.
“We’re talking a herd of animals, and they must have been hungry,” he told me. “Happened last night, and whatever it was went through his whole field. I got curious and went up there just now to take a look.” I handed him his mug and he shook his head. “If the things didn’t eat the squash they stomped on it, and they left these weird marks on the ground. Kind of like hoof prints, but only the devil could make something like that.” He cradled the mug between his hands and shrugged. “Either way the whole crop’s ruined and I’ve got an empty truck to take back to the Depot. It was supposed to go out on the weekly train in a few days.”
“So what kind of animal do they think did it?” I wondered.
He took a sip of his coffee and shuddered. “Tell Ralph he’s gotta ease up on the tar or this stuff’s gonna be banned by the EPA.”
“Ah heard ya!” Ralph snapped from the kitchen.
Jack winked at me. “Just gotta make sure he’s alive now and then.”
“Ah’m not going anywhere!” Ralph shouted.
“So what do they think got the gourds?” I persisted.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. The police couldn’t get any good prints around the place, and Old Ben wasn’t sure what he saw go under the fence. He thought maybe it was some kid, but I don’t know.”
“I guess the police will find out,” I commented.
“Maybe, maybe not.” He slid the coffee mug over to me. “Could I get a spoon for this coffee? This stuff’s congealing at the bottom.”
“Sure thing,” I agreed.
I handed him a sturdy metal spoon and wandered over to a table in the far corner of the diner. This was an investigation job for more than just me. I dialed a number and waited for the pickup.
“Yes?” a voice answered.
“Roland, we may or may not have a problem,” I told him.
“What’s happened?” he asked me.
I glanced over my shoulder at Jack. He was busy spooning the strata of sludge out of the bottom of his mug. “I just heard about a farm that was attacked. A whole field of squash was squished.”
“Are there any suspects?” he wondered.
“Nope, but whatever it was left some weird marks, or at least that’s what the trucker who was supposed to deliver the squash to the Depot told me,” I whispered.
“Misty! Get yer butt over here and get this plate!” Ralph barked from the delivery window.
“Coming!” I called.
“We’ll talk later,” Roland promised. Click.
I sighed and pocketed my phone. Another night, another trouble.
I jumped when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw it was Charlie. We’d swapped numbers just in case one of us needed help against the undead, ghosts, or a persistent door-to-door salesman. I glanced at the swinging doors to the kitchen and answered the phone.
“Charlie, I can’t talk long, I’m at work,” I whispered.
“Does silver work against vampires?” he asked me.
“I think so, why? Derdrom isn’t back, is he?” I wondered.
“No, just thinking about getting something for my truck, but I’ll talk to you later.”
“Wait, what are you-” Click. “-doing?” I looked at the screen and frowned. Maybe I didn’t want to know what Charlie was up to.
I put the phone away and got back to worrying about the midnight raid on one of the Great Pumpkin’s patches. My shift ended late the next morning and I stepped out into the chilly late-October air. Halloween would be here in less than two weeks, and the trick would be on me if I didn’t get some food soon to feed the little monsters that came to my apartment. Pity silver wasn’t a good deterrent on them.
At least I might be able to convince my roommate to answer the door. He didn’t even have to put on any makeup or plastic fangs to scare some of the younger ones.
I wrapped my coat closer to myself and walked towards my car. The weather was too cold for the Transylvania Express. I jingled my keys and jumped when a shadow dropped down in front of me. Roland stood in front of me with his soul box in hand.
“That’s it, you’re getting a bell collar for Christmas,” I told him.
“Is there any way we can inspect the farm at this hour?” he asked me.
“Only if we want to risk getting a barrel full of lead up our noses,” I warned him.
“Lead won’t kill me,” he reminded me.
“No, but it’ll definitely rearrange my face, and I’d rather not have plastic surgery this morning,” I persisted.
“I’ll drive,” he offered.
I covered a yawn with my hand. “All right, all right, we’ll go there, but you get to knock on the door.”
I directed Roland to the farm. It was only a few miles down the road from where I grew up. I was somewhat intimate with the owner, or at least with his watermelon patch. That love-affair ended when he found me and his prize melon sitting in the patch by moonlight discussing how the melon had too many seeds inside him. I was grounded for a year from that cardinal direction and was forced to eat watermelon every night for dessert until I started to turn green.
“So what’ve you been up to tonight?” I asked my driver.
“Cleaning the apartment,” he replied.
“And?”
“And foraging for food.”
“You make people sound like leafy vegetables.”
“Would you rather I compare humans to a hunt?” he countered.
“So do we taste like lettuce or chard?”
“The taste of human reflects their diet,” he told me.
“So if I ate garlic every day I’d be invincible?” I guessed.
“To vampires and humans alike,” he assured me.
