“I’m dying of suspense,” I said putting my power boots up on the chair next to me. “What’s the good news?”
Emma pulled an envelope out of her bag. “Well, according to this acceptance letter,” Emma said waving it in my face, “I am now a future student of Tufts University.”
Son of a dung beetle.
“Ohmygosh,” I blurted, “that’s awesome!” Very, very awesome. “How did you get in so fast?” I asked.
I think the guys were just as curious, but I was beating them to the punch.
“I submitted my application for early admissions the day after homecoming,” Emma said.
Homecoming. Emma had helped to save Calvin’s arm, and possibly his life, when he was injured in wolf form. Her role in the events of that night had helped her decide to pursue veterinary medicine as a career.
“It helped that I had a fabulous list of references,” Emma added.
I’m sure that that list included Calvin’s parents. Thinking back to all of the animal rights projects that Emma had been actively involved with over the years, I realized there were probably hundreds of names on that list.
“Hey girl,” I said, “I think you’re actually overqualified. They should be paying you to go there.”
“Truer words have never been said,” Calvin added.
I knew how much Calvin appreciated Emma’s help in healing his arm and was a major supporter of her interest in becoming a veterinarian.
“Well I can’t complain,” Emma smiled. “I am getting a free ride after all.”
Gordy and Calvin cheered.
A free ride. I had forgotten about Cal’s dad’s offer to come up with Emma’s tuition if she agreed to assist the werewolves when they had need of someone with veterinary training.
“It doesn’t get any better than that,” I said happily.
This meant that we would always have ties to each other. No matter what happens next. Emma, Calvin, and I would always be together.
So long as I survive Samhain.
###
Read on for an exciting excerpt from the next
Spirit Guide Series novel,
Spirit Storm
By E.J. Stevens
October 30th Salem, Massachusetts
“A Pox Upon All Thieves,” read the sign hanging at eye level on the wall behind the glass case. I stifled a shudder and tried to distract myself from the task at hand. I was about to attempt grand theft amulet from an occult shop known to be run by witches. Son of a dung beetle. How did I get myself into this mess?
The words were painted in an old-fashioned font and the sign was covered in a false patina of age. My mind latched onto an old memory of my grandmother teaching me the tricks of tole painting. I remember her patiently demonstrating the technique of speckling, layering, and then using tea for the finishing touch.
“See it’s nothing,” my mind screamed desperately. “It’s not even old.” Old or not, the sign still filled me with dread.
I was grasping for anything which might distract me, but thoughts of my grandmother only deepened my sense of guilt. I may be rebellious, but I wasn’t the kind of girl to steal from anyone. Except now. I felt like I was on a slippery slope to Hell. Good thing I wore my boots.
October 20th Maine
I shivered as Calvin ran his hand down my cheek and not from the cool autumn breeze swirling leaves around the school parking lot. I pressed myself against him, a little voice in the back of my head only slightly concerned I might impale him on one of the many safety pins covering my shirt. He tilted my head back and leaned in to kiss me. I am so in love with you Calvin Miller.
As our lips touched I felt a vibrating against my hip that didn’t have anything to do with love or raging hormones.
“Sorry,” Cal mumbled against my lips as he reached for his phone. The sleeve of his frayed sweater caught on one of my safety pins and his phone went flying onto the pavement.
“I guess I’m the one that’s sorry,” I said trying to extract his sweater from my shirt.
“I meant to ask earlier,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Is there a reason why you’re wearing about ten pounds of safety pins today?”
I laughed, still attempting to unhook the threads of his sweater. I was tempted to grab clippers from my backpack, but was trying to lessen the damage. Not that I minded being attached to Cal. Not at all.
“Emma and I were doing more research and some people believe iron and steel help to repel spirits,” I answered.
“I thought that was just for fairies,” he said.
“Well, it depends on the source,” I said. “Some of the books and Internet sites claim that iron and steel also hurts the dead. Other sources even claim fairies actually are spirits. Hence, my crazy awesome safety pin shirt.”
“So it’s kind of like chain mail for spirits,” he said.
“Exactly,” I said, finally pulling the last strand of yarn from the offending pin. “There, you’re free wolf boy.”
Calvin reached down for his phone, but froze part way. His phone was open and the picture which had been sent to him was on the screen. My brain was having trouble processing what I was looking at. There was fur, and limbs, and…oh God, there was the glassy eye of a dead wolf. I looked up at Cal’s face and could tell the wolf must have been one of the members of his pack. Something bad had happened. Something very, very bad.
Cal’s phone suddenly started vibrating, making it dance epileptically along the pavement, and we both nearly jumped out of our skins. Oh why did my mind have to conjure up that image?
With a shudder, Calvin reached down and grabbed the phone. Pressing the button to answer he closed his eyes and brought the phone to his ear. “Simon?” Cal asked.
“Right on one,” Simon quipped, though his tone quickly turned serious. “We have a problem. Did you get the photo I sent you?”
“Yeah, it just came through,” Cal said. “Is…is it what it looks like?”
“If it looks like a dead wolf, then yes, it’s what it looks like,” Simon answered.
I watched Cal’s Adam’s apple rise and fall with his swallowing. He was obviously trying to keep it together and avoid being sick. I really hoped he managed to control the gorge rising in his throat. Some people are social yawners, but I have the unpleasant habit of social yacking. If Cal puked, I was so totally going to start uncontrollably puking on his shoes. Hurling on my boyfriend would definitely not help this situation. You better not throw up Calvin Miller.
“Do we know who it is?” Cal asked. He didn’t ask if the wolf was one of the Old Blood. He already knew.
“Looks like he was an accountant named Gavin Sanders,” Simon replied. “He worked in the city and would come out here to the woods on his way home at the end of the work week and go for a run in wolf form. His way to unwind, I guess. I found a pile of his clothes, folded neatly, with his wallet, phone, and car keys not far from where he parked on the road. I’ll have to go back and do some more tracking, but it smells like he was followed into the woods. Someone must have known his routine.”
“And that he was a werewolf,” Cal said, voicing what Simon must have been thinking.
“Aye, it seems that way,” Simon said with a sigh. “I’ll sniff around a bit more and see what turns up.”
“Thanks Simon,” Cal said. “I’ll head home and start calling the others. We need to warn everyone that there may be someone hunting us.”
Simon made a growling sound in the affirmative and hung up. Calvin stood frozen with his phone in a white knuckled grip still held to his ear. I stepped forward and reached up to touch his hand.
“Cal?” I asked.
His eyes were still closed, but he flinched and began to slowly open them. I once read an ostrich will hide its head to avoid seeing danger. Calvin appeared to be doing something similar. Unfortunately danger wasn’t something you could avoid by keeping your eyes shut. I should know.
“Come on,” I said, holding his hand. “Let’s go sit down in yo
ur truck. We can come up with a plan and if you’re too freaked out to drive I’ll call Emma. She can come pick us up.”
Calvin nodded, but his eyes were unfocused and I could tell he was in shock. He let me lead him to his truck where I grabbed the spare key and opened his door. He stepped inside and sat behind the wheel while I raced around to the passenger door and climbed into the truck cab. What should I do now?
I sat there awash in wet dog smell wondering what I could possibly do to help. Over the past few weeks I had noticed Calvin gave off the smell more when he was stressed. Seeing the picture of a dead man definitely ranked high on the stress meter. I just hoped Cal could retain enough control to remain in human form. His alpha status and Simon’s training helped, but that didn’t change the fact that many of the Old Blood shifted during times of extreme duress.
Cal already had a close call with shifting into wolf form on school grounds. During the Homecoming dance I had made the mistake of letting loose on the dance floor which inadvertently called out to Calvin’s wolf spirit. He had begun to transform right there in the school gymnasium and we only managed to escape with the help of our best friend Emma. But not everyone escaped unscathed.
Cal had been injured, breaking his arm or foreleg as it was at the time, and though he was healing quickly I could tell his arm was still tender. The worst wounds from that night weren’t physical. We all blamed ourselves for what happened and none of us would easily forget the events of Homecoming and the disaster only barely averted. I had promised myself I would never let something like that happen again, but I wasn’t sure what to do next. I was supposed to be the anchor that kept Cal from losing touch with his human self. We were soul mates. Soul mates.
I suddenly knew what to do. I reached down and dragged my backpack up onto the bench seat. Pulling out books and notepads I found what I was looking for. I lifted a half-eaten sandwich from the plastic bag and jumped out of the truck. I peeled the bread away, letting the cheese fall with a slap to the pavement, and started crumbling and tossing the bread in a circle around the truck. I wasn’t sure if this would work, but I would take all the help we could get. Not really feeling choosy.
A few weeks ago, while training with Simon, I had learned crows have a special relationship with wolves. In the wild, crows will lead wolves to a food source and have been known to warn them of danger. I didn’t know if the crows could help if the danger to Cal happened to be his own wolf spirit, but my frenzied brain logic thought it was worth a shot. I continued to scatter bread in a circle around Cal’s truck. When I ran out of bread I tried to think of some other offering. I looked down at myself and smiled. Crows like shiny objects. I stood in front of Calvin’s truck with my arms open wide, sun shining on my metal shirt. It was a good day for being covered in safety pins.
“Yuki?” Cal asked.
His voice was coming from behind me and for a moment I wondered if I’d imagined it. I had closed my eyes against the sun and was reciting a mantra of “help Cal” and visualizing a flock of crows coming to his aid.
“Is there a reason why you’re standing out there like that?” he asked. “If you’re pretending to be a scarecrow, it’s not working.”
I opened my eyes and turned around to see Calvin looking at me quizzically. We were surrounded by crows feeding on the bread crumbs I had scattered. I approached Cal’s window and leaned in for a hug. He didn’t smell like wet dog. I felt so elated I twirled around singing, “shiny, shiny, crows are led, by safety pins, and bits of bread!” Cal just looked at me and laughed. Hooray for frenzied brain logic.
Our moment of gaiety was over too soon. There were storm clouds on the horizon, one filled with spirits of the dead and the other containing a person angry or disturbed enough to kill a member of Cal’s pack in cold blood, and running away would only be a temporary solution. No, this was a storm we had to face head on.
I joined Cal inside the truck and together we dealt with the difficult task of deciding what to do next. I looked away, suddenly engrossed in the movement of one lone crow eating the remaining crumbs from the ground, as Calvin opened his phone to look at the wolf picture one more time. With a decisive nod he closed the phone and started the engine.
“Can you call Emma and ask her to meet us back at the cabin?” he asked. “Tell her we’ll be there in about twenty minutes and to bring her supplies.”
“Sure,” I answered, already pulling out my phone.
“Need anything from your house?” he asked. “A change of clothes maybe?”
I could see Cal eyeing my safety pin shirt with amusement. If he thought I was changing out of my shiny shirt, he could think again. It was my new lucky shirt. I might never change my shirt again.
“Well, actually I could use my power boots,” I answered. “I can run in and grab them and leave a note for my parents that I might be a bit late coming home tonight.”
“Good idea,” he said, already backing out of the school parking lot.
I speed dialed Emma and she answered on the first ring. “Girl, is everything okay?” Emma asked. “I just had the creepiest thing happen. I stopped by the veterinary clinic to check this week’s work schedule and when I was holding Duvet, our resident boa constrictor, he spoke to me. He said you were in trouble.”
A storm definitely was on the horizon. When it rains it pours.
About the Author
E.J. Stevens writes poetry and young adult paranormal novels. E.J. is author of the haunting collection of dark poetry From the Shadows, the chilling collection of paranormal poetry Shadows of Myth and Legend, and the young adult paranormal Spirit Guide Series, including She Smells the Dead, Spirit Storm, and Legend of Witchtrot Road.
E.J. is a graduate of the University of Maine at Farmington with a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology and is an active member of the Paranormal Romance Guild. E.J. currently resides in a magical forest on the coast of Maine where she finds daily inspiration for her writing. When E.J. isn't at her writing desk she can be found blogging at From the Shadows, a paranormal book blog, or hanging out on Goodreads and Twitter.
Visit E.J. at:
http://www.FromTheShadows.info
Learn more about the Spirit Guide Series at the official series website:
http://spiritguideseries.blogspot.com
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
E.J. Stevens, She Smells the Dead
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