Excerpt of MOONLIGHT MAYHEM - Book 2

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Chapter One

My body relaxed for the first time in weeks without the fear of demon blood infecting me with Darkness. Or a portal to the Underworld opening up under my feet. Or ghosts inhabiting my body. No, I was just a normal teen like the others here tonight. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as I sat slouching in the back booth at Luna Pizza along with my BFF, Ariana Parsons, while we both critiqued the band, especially the bass player but not the seriously cute lead singer. I propped my cheek on my fist and sighed, watching the other kids dancing. The loud music, a thudding hum inside my chest.

Summer vacation had ended and we were already a week into our junior year. School was good. Normal. Something I’d missed a bunch, after months spent dealing with the paranormal.

No demons around to vanquish, or evil witch covens to break up. Nope—I was back to being an ordinary teenage girl. Well, almost normal. If you didn’t count the whole prophesied Thirteenth Daughter thing. Which I was conveniently ignoring.

“I can’t believe summer’s over. No more sleeping in,” Ariana said around a mouthful of pizza. “When is Thanksgiving break?”

I smiled. “Already counting down the days?” I stretched my legs under the table, getting a peek at my boots—ankle-high pink Doc Martens, useful for everything from partying to kicking ass—and looked around. Ari was right. Mostly teens dressed in summer attire: tanks, halter-tops, and shorts. Some girl in a super short skirt was giving the band’s singer the you’re-so-hot-I-could-die look.

“Duh.” Ariana wiped her mouth with a napkin and gestured to the room. Flaxen hair hung in wild curls past her shoulders, and wide blue eyes stared blatantly at me. “If ya haven’t noticed, I’m not the only one with summertime blues. Most of the junior class is here tonight. It’s our duty as teenagers to have as much fun as possible before summer officially ends.”

During the month of September, the weather remained muggy and hot. A mixture of jocks and cheerleaders had clustered in a booth near the band. Stuck to a bulletin board, notices for missing people flapped in the air-conditioned draft. In this town, a lotta crazy stuff happened—including teens who’d never runaway disappearing in the dead of the night. The restaurant’s decor resembled a typical pizza parlor, with old street signs and framed movie posters on the walls. Luna Pizza was an all-ages venue for live music. Every teen in town hung out here. The bands were rockin’. The pizza was even better.

“Guess you’re right. Doesn’t seem like anyone here is ready for summer to end, but I’m glad it’s over. No more death and mayhem.” It wasn’t like my life had been anything near normal this summer. Far, far from it. My days of being hunted by paranormals were over. For now. And I wasn’t about to start complaining. Demon vacation was even better than summer vacation.

I noticed Ariana staring at Daniel Ramírez, his arm slung around some girl. Gorgeous, privileged, and the Giant’s star quarterback. As my gaze drifted over the crowd, I wondered if Trent Donovan would show up. Our breakup had left a major lump in my throat. A twinge in my heart.

Cut it out, Shiloh. Supposed to be having fun with your best friend. No blubbering over your ex tonight.

My moody reflection gazed back at me from the oblong mirror attached along the wall of the bar. I had dark circles under my brown eyes and a pimple on my forehead. Not good. I pushed my black hair over the zit, so the strands hung over one eye. Much better.

Ariana snapped her fingers. “Hello? Spacing out again.”

 “Sorry. Please repeat.”

“I asked how studies were going with Evans. Still lecturing you on sacred duties?”

Only a few people knew the truth regarding the prophecy, but everyone in town identified my family as the Broussard Witches. In a place like Whispering Pines, rumors leaked like water from a drippy faucet. Small towns—gotta love ‘em. 
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yeah. Don’t even get him started or he’ll go on and on. But I gotta say, he’s a wicked cool teacher on all things supernatural.” But I didn’t want to deal with the supernatural tonight. I wanted to forget the drama. Just have fun with Ari. I jerked my chin at the dancers. “Do you think that girl near the stage is hoping to hookup with the singer?”

“No doubt. Her skirt’s so short, it could be a belt.” Ariana leaned back and adjusted her cleavage, darting another glance at Daniel. She must be hoping he’d notice her. She’d obviously put some effort into her outfit tonight. But would popular boy Daniel notice one of the nobodies in school? She totally rocked the girly tomboy look: corduroy blazer over a lacy camisole paired with capris and her turquoise glitter Nikes that matched a scarf hanging from her neck.

I glanced at my own ensemble. Okay, yes, I’m sorta a clothes whore. Only because battling demons and other things ended up ruining most of your wardrobe. And hey, no one ever said you couldn’t look cute and kickass, too. Tonight I’d worn my usual edgy-rockstar-boho style: cropped black shirt with a pink skull decal that was short enough to reveal my bellyring, a bunch of chunky necklaces, and low-rise jeans. I had on a black hoodie, too. My mother would be appalled. She believed hoodies were a major style offense to fashionistas everywhere, but I had to wear long sleeves to cover my hideous scar. I hated it. Freakin’ mark of a demon.

I started to laugh at Ariana’s snarky remark, but the mysterious mark carved onto my wrist tingled, and I cocked my head. Every muscle in my body tensed. The sensation thrilled through me, not hurting but prickling. I scanned the dim corners and edges of the room, fingering the switchblade—a present from Dad on our first camping trip—in the back pocket of my jeans. The hairs on my arms bristled. The ominous feeling lingered like an approaching storm. Even after weeks of training with Evans, I wasn’t able to pinpoint the source with my powers. But I knew something felt wrong.

The main door crashed open, bringing inside a rush of harsh wind and the fetid scent of damp earth. A girl screamed louder than any banshee, and the band sputtered into silence. Heads snapped up. Murmurs leaked from parted lips. Kids gawked at the doorway, mouths agape.

A boy staggered inside the restaurant, blood spurting from his left arm. He looked up and I recognized James McMillian, a Varsity football player from school. Blood drenched his shirt, dripping from his tan chinos to stain the scuffed and scabbed wood floor. “Someone—help me. Please!” he yelled, collapsing in a pond of red.

Probably a fight gone wrong. Maybe over a girl. Rumor had it that James was dating the mayor’s daughter, Ashley Witheridge. I squinted. The boy was covered in blood. It pooled beneath him, clotted and black in the dim light. My stomach clenched.

Three guys on the football team, Stefan Galenorn, Tyreese Johnson, and Carter Lampard rushed to James’s aid. Kids formed a half-circle around the bleeding boy. They covered their mouths in shock and horror. Ariana and I jumped to our feet, but I didn’t know what to do. The owner, Frank, appeared from the kitchen, a phone in his hands. He stared at James, and then with shaky fingers dialed 911.  

My chest tightened, and a shiver slashed through me. So much blood. The sight filled my head. The jagged scar vibrated. Another bad sign. I made a tiny movement, wanting to touch the scar that ached with a prickling vibration. Forced my trembling hand down. Nobody was doing anything. Just gawking.

Something is seriously wrong here, Shiloh.

Someone bumped me from behind and the voice in my head receded. I realized I was clutching my tiger’s eye pendant in one damp hand. I dropped the gemstone inside my shirt as if it had stung me. I pushed past the stunned teens—I had to do something. Anything.

“Back up. Give him some space!” I shouted and squatted to check James’s arm, touching it gently with my hands. He winced. Flesh had been torn from his bicep. Several jagged scratches lined his arm and tufts of fur were embedded in the...bite mark? The injury looked bad. Real bad. I yanked off my hoodie, put it over the wound, and applied pressure. Blood soaked the cloth within seconds. He needed a tourniquet above the injury to stop the blood flow or he could die. Heat was emanating from his body like steam. Beads of sweat dampened his forehead. I rocked back on my heels and let go of his arm. I wanted to close my eyes and hug the injured boy, hold my breath in case he died here on the floor. Think! Think!

I searched the blur of faces surrounding us until I found Ariana’s shocked stare. “Ari! Tie your scarf above the wound.” Ariana moved forward, knelt beside us, and tied her blue scarf tightly around his upper arm. The flow of blood lessened. I grasped James’s other hand, clammy and hot. “What happened?”

“Monster. Big.” James’s voice sounded soft, distant. Almost an echo. His hazel eyes watery and bleak. Brown curls damp on his forehead. “It bit me when I got outta my car…I want my mom—please get my mom.”

“Someone will call her. Hold on, James,” I said.

Monster? Ariana’s eyes met mine. She nodded, in that way that told me she understood completely. We needed to know if it was another paranormal assault here in Whispering Pines—a town where things went majorly bump in the night—or just the rambling of a kid in shock. I was hoping for the latter.

Ariana leaned down, her mouth close to his ear. “Can you tell us what it looked like? The, uh, monster that bit you?”

He hesitated, and I was certain he knew the other kids were watching. All of them listening.

Glasses rattled. Feet shuffled. The video game beside the restrooms beeped, startling a boy on my right so hard he dropped a plate. James’s eyes flicked past my shoulder. He stared, gaze torn, cheeks hollow, like a ghost, gnawing at the edge of the living. His aura wavered like smoke.

I glanced behind me to find Daniel Ramírez staring at us. Son of the Giant’s football coach. Strong. Unflappable on the field. But not now. He stood with his shoulders caved in, and his chiseled features seemed stark and hollow against the brownness of his skin and short dark brown hair. I glimpsed the truth in his stare. He looked scared. Like the others.

“It had yellow eyes.” James tried to sit up, then slumped back down. “Grey fur. Huge...wolf.”

I frowned and locked gazes with Ariana. “Did he say wolf?”

She nodded and wiped tears spilling down her cheeks. “Hang in there, James.”

His body trembled and he coughed blood onto the floor. “It hurts.”

“You’re gonna be okay.” I said, but we both knew my words were a lie.

James licked his lips. “Please tell Ashley that I...”

The screeching wail of an ambulance extinguished the sobs and whispers. Through the open doorway, a van skidded to a halt at the curb. Its red flashers bounced off the faces of the onlookers huddled inside. Ariana and I retreated to join the others while the paramedics sprang into action. One EMT checked James’s pulse and the other one tended the wound. They worked mutely for several nail-biting minutes. Then James’s eyes closed and his head fell sideways. His body went slack.

The EMT wrapping his arm with gauze raised his head. “He’s lost consciousness. Wait—that’s weird.” He sat back on his haunches and stared intently at James. “It’s like he’s slipped into a coma.” He shook his head as if brushing aside the thought. Then with help from the other paramedic, they hoisted James’s body onto a stretcher and pushed it outside. At least he hadn’t pronounced James dead. We watched from behind the windows while they loaded James into the ambulance. The van’s doors banging shut echoed over the stunned group of teens.

My scar pulsated. It burned like a lava kiss that warned me of danger. I eyed Daniel again. He stood stiff. Sweat beaded his forehead. Tawny eyes. Jaw tight. I stared at the narrow, uneven scar below his right eye, and I wondered how he’d gotten it. Unlike me, he probably hadn’t been branded by a demon.

A cruiser parked alongside the van and the doors flung open, announcing Sheriff Charles Boyd and Deputy Craig O’Brian’s arrival. The two men made an odd pair. Sheriff Boyd was a tall black man, with a wiry strength that reflected the rest of his bulky body. Deputy O’Brian, on the other hand, was a foot shorter than his partner, and his freckled Irish features were in sharp contrast to Boyd’s darker African American heritage. They spoke to the EMTs in hushed voices before the paramedics jumped in the ambulance and took off toward Marin Hospital.

Sheriff Boyd rubbed his bald head and frowned at the commotion. He marched into the restaurant, stepped around the blood-splattered floor, and questioned witnesses.

 “Can’t believe there’s been another incident,” Deputy O’Brian muttered from the doorway. He lifted the walkie-talkie buzzing on his leather belt. While he spoke into the receiver, he scrutinized the scene, the bristles of his short hair glittering vermilion under the streetlights. He slid the device back into its holder. “Boyd! Let’s roll. We have a lead.”

 “Call it a night, kids!” Sheriff Boyd bellowed. “No loitering in the parking lot!” He pivoted on his booted heel, walked outside, and hopped into the cruiser. They burned rubber toward the woods enclosing the town, red taillights vanishing in the ghostly wisps of fog.

Ariana put her arm around my bare shoulders, pulling me into a half-hug. I felt some of the uneasiness lift. That’s when I realized I didn’t have my hoodie on, just a short-sleeved tee. My arms uncovered. The mark exposed. Blood had spattered on the thigh of my jeans. Another pair ruined, but it didn’t matter. In those seconds, I only worried about two things—the embarrassed flush warming my skin and the panicked realization that the strange mark tracing a serrated line from my elbow to my wrist was exposed. I folded my arm against my chest. But people had seen. They were staring at the scar, which bugged the crap out of me.

Okay, yeah, so the scar is Frankenstein ugly—get over it already!

Ariana followed me to the restroom, where we washed the blood off our hands. I stopped at our table to grab my purse. “Let’s go,” I said, my car keys pinching my palm.

Instead of the gawking and whispers about my obvious disfigurement, I received nods and pats on the back. The murmurs blended as I pushed through the crowd: “Fast thinking, Shiloh.” “Good job.” “Man, a lot of freaky stuff happens here.”

Outside, the buildings gleamed bleakly beneath filtered light from the streetlamps and a full moon occupied the painfully dark sky. Splotches of blood stained the sidewalk. Still wet and running between the cracks in the pavement. Engines revved impatiently and car doors slammed. A Toyota with a dent in the fender honked at a pickup idling in the lot. Rap music boomed from a Honda backing out beside my Jeep Wrangler.

Although I had my provisional driver license, I still drove Ari around town and to school on occasion. Sheriff Boyd wasn’t super strict on enforcing the law. Not like teen driving accidents in Whispering Pines was a big concern. The cops had their hands full with searching for missing persons, trying to solve mysterious homicides, and regularly concealing evidence when mystical forces attacked the residents in an effort to shield the town from mass hysteria. And keep the general media from discovering all the weirdness. But for a town that could pass as a quiet, boring little suburb, it was actually a pretty dangerous place to live. Especially after sundown.

A huge raven landed on the chain-link fence that divided the buildings. The bird’s strange eyes eerily fixed on me. Seriously creepy.

Keeping our gazes cemented on the abnormally large bird, we skirted toward the Jeep. The raven ruffled its feathers and released a cry of outrage, sounding like the screech of the damned. We climbed into the Jeep and stared out the dirty windshield. The fearsome raven fluffed its chest, drenched in moonglow, each black feather edged with cold light.

 “What’s that weird bird doing?” Ari asked.

An odd sensation crept over my skin. The raven’s head tilted. Two glittering eyes fastened on mine in an almost human stare.

“Watching us.” I threw my silver-studded leather bag in the backseat and jammed the keys into the ignition.

 “Get us out of here, Shi.” Ari shuddered and put on her seatbelt.

I gunned the engine and whipped beyond the driveway. But the weird vibes stayed with me, scraped at my insides, even after we drove away. So not the way I thought our Saturday night would end. Twice I checked my side mirror. I turned left on Evergreen Drive and stopped at the intersection.

“What do you think attacked James?”

I stared at the traffic light, as if fascinated by the red glow in the night. “Not sure. Something bad.” I glanced at her profile. “He said wolf. But that’s wacky because we don’t have any wolves around here or...”

Her forehead scrunched. One eyelid twitching. “What? Like a werewolf?”

The light turned green, and I hit the gas. “This is Whispering Pines—anything is possible in this paranormal paradise.”

She shook her head, fear bleaching her cheeks and tugging the corners of her lips downward. “True. We should talk to Evans. He’s the expert on the freaky stuff.”

Ariana flicked a lock of curly hair over her shoulder, and her round face eased back into its usual relaxed, pretty expression. She cracked the window and the sharp autumn smell of the forest surged through the Jeep, along with the rumble of the engine. We sped down the foggy road. I switched on the Jeep’s fog lights. Sometimes, like now, I hated Northern California’s infamous coastal fog.

 “Good idea. We’ll stop by Ravenhurst.” I peered at the sky, then squinted into my side mirror. A sinking feeling struck my gut.

Ariana tugged on my sleeve. “What if Trent’s there?”

I shrugged. “He’s cool with the fact that his uncle’s my mentor. It’s just the paranormal stuff he finds problematic. Like my dad,” I groaned, “who’s the only person more stubborn than Trent Donovan when it comes to the supernatural. I couldn’t even tell him why Trent and I broke up, because then I’d have to try and explain the big demon vanquishing event last month.”

“Yeah, how do you explain that?”

“To someone like him—you don’t.”

Actually, I still liked Trent, although three weeks ago I’d walked away from him after that terrifying night at Ravenhurst. He’d had a party at his house, with all the local teens. During the party I’d accidentally did some stuff—stuff I wish never had happened. I hadn’t broken up with him because of what had gone down that night. Or because he was damaged, like me. I knew he harbored a deep insecurity. Growing up, he’d been repeatedly rejected by his father and stuck in boarding schools. No real family connection. No, our breakup had been because he hadn’t believed in me. Ever. And that seriously sucked. 

I veered into the affluent neighborhood of Madrone Woodlands lined with estates guarded by high iron gates, curving driveways, and manicured lawns. Charming edifices—a balance of old and new. From the streetlights filtering through the treetops, I spotted the blur of black wings.

 “The EMT said James sank into a coma. Weird, huh?” I said.

When she remained silent, I flicked my gaze to her. She stared out the window, her expression pensive. I reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. Glimpsing my skin next to her’s reminded me that Ariana and I were total opposites, like sunny skies compared to somber clouds. An optimist compared to a pessimist. And not only in personality, but looks, too. She had blond ringlets, winter pale skin, that had a sparkly glow in direct sunlight, and a curvaceous figure. Me? Well, I’d inherited exotic looking features due to my Sioux lineage on my father’s side: a skinny yet muscular body, high cheekbones, olive complexion, big brown eyes, and thick hair the color of midnight. Yup, she’s light to my dark. Even in how we viewed the world.

 “Yeah,” Ariana finally said, her blue eyes filled with sympathetic tears. “I wonder what James wanted to tell Ashley. Now we’ll never know unless he wakes from the coma.”

I sighed, not trusting my voice, and looked back at the road. Weathered Victorian houses loomed within the mist. Fog rolling off the Bay lingered and shrouded the town. Beyond the homes, pines staggered in a thick tangle of still green. The sick, unsteady feeling in my stomach got worse. Poor James—

Ariana clutched the dashboard. “Shiloh! Look out!”

I jerked my attention to the road and my heart leapt into my throat...

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Read the chilling excerpt from the first book in this series, BEAUTIFULLY BROKEN