Since it’s Halloween and I’ve been busy writing about gangs of witches, warlocks, shifters, demons, shadow elves, pixies and vampires, I’m sharing an excerpt from my upcoming novel, MAGIC BREW, scheduled for release in July, 2015.
Haven’t heard about MAGIC BREW yet? Here’s a quick blurb about it: Forced to flee through New York City’s twisting maze of subway tunnels, parks, sewers and deserted buildings, the Forsaken–a gang of magical, halfbreed misfits–must fight their way through enemy gangs of shifters, warlocks, demons, and deadly fae blocking their way back to home turf.
The lights go out and the train comes to a screeching halt, rocking us all off balance. Except for the scarlet glow of Knox’s hand, it’s blacker than night in here. We’re stopped inside the tunnel.
Like one mind, we back into each other, facing outward in a tight circle, ready for battle. No one speaks. We’re barely breathing as we listen for the first sign of danger.
The tension explodes with the sound of windows shattering, shrieks and the deafening flap of hundreds of wings. Broken glass, beaks and claws scratch my face and hands. Knox lets out a war cry, blasting a stream of fire into the darkness, which lights up a vicious swarm of bats and crows filling the subway car. The ones he catches on fire go up in puffs of smoke and ash–the telltale sign of a witch’s shadow demons.
We’re surrounded by Dread witches, and they are no less distressing than warlocks. These pasty-faced chicks with their Dread eye tattoos on their foreheads, creepy black makeup and dreary Victorian clothes with S&M leather accents are not who you want to meet in a dark tunnel. They are the mothers of warlocks, the queens of spells, the goddesses of nightmares.
“Get down!” Knox yells.
“No, don’t!” I shout. But it’s too late. All I can do is drop to my knees along with the rest of the gang to avoid the stream of scorching flames he’s blasting in a full circle above our heads. The dark flock of shadow demons catch fire like dry leaves in the wind, countless burning embers coiling inward before blinking out and turning to ash. Silence falls just as surely as the fine powder raining on our heads, here in the inky gloom.
This is bad. The witches just got exactly what they wanted. Physical contact. The scorched fragments of their shadow familiars powdered all over us are relaying our essence back to their mistresses this very second. Now the witches know our numbers and what we are.
Knox suddenly turns into a human torch and goes flying backward. There’s a look of shock on his face as he’s pinned to the wall, but he’s not saying a word. He can’t. All conjurers know how to control the elements. And anyone with elemental blood.
Worried about Fletcher, I glance over at him the same time an unseen force slams him straight up onto the ceiling, using his own elemental power to trap him in a tornado of wind. With Knox lighting up the subway car we can see Fletcher struggling to break free. He lets out a terrible roar as scales rupture his skin, his bones cracking, breaking and reconfiguring into the form of a cougar. He howls with pain as antlers thrust from his skull, piercing his newly grown reptilian hide.
The change looks unpleasant and it’s definitely not good for any of us. There’s a primordial vengeance demon thrashing right above us, ready to claw the life out of anyone who gets too close. It’s the main reason Fletcher sticks to using his elemental powers instead of shifting into the Mishispeshu. He can’t control the beast.
Zulu punches his fist. “Who do you think you’re huddled next to? You’re looking at a goddamned witch doctor. Those ball busters don’t have anything on me. I fart stronger magick than this.”
“Yeah? Then why don’t you rip one off and get those harpies to flock off?” Hurley says.
Zulu frowns at him. “I don’t see you doing anything.”
“Get me close enough and I’ll go fangy on the whole lot.”
“Don’t be stupid. That’s not how it works with the Dreads,” Constantine says.
Hurley’s face flames red. “So I’ve never rumbled with the Dreads. What’s the big deal?”
“Just like the Bad Hats, the Dreads don’t get their hands dirty with street fights,” Constantine explains. “These evil bitches cast spells that throw you into a nightmare tailor-made just for you. And the worst part is you’ll never know when it hits.”
Justice shrugs. “That’s true. I’ve heard a Dread spell starts with a whisper and ends with a roar. We could be under their spells right now.”
Happy Halloween, and I hope you enjoy the excerpt!
If you’re interested in reading the first two chapters of MAGIC BREW you can download a free copy by clicking HERE.