Shadow Stalker Part 3 (Episodes 13 - 18) by Renee Scattergood

Renee Scattergood lives in Australia with her husband, Nathan, and daughter, Taiya. She has always been a fan of fantasy and was inspired to become a story-teller by George Lucas, but didn't start considering writing down her stories until she reached her late twenties. Now she enjoys writing dark fantasy, and she’d dabbling with paranormal thrillers under a pen name.

She is currently publishing her monthly Shadow Stalker serial, and she has published a prequel novella to the series called, Demon Hunt. She is also working on a new series of novels, A God's Deception.

Aside from writing, she loves reading (fantasy, of course), watching movies with her family, and doing crafts and science experiments with her homeschooled daughter. Visit her site for more information and a free copy of Shadow Stalker Part 1 (Episodes 1 – 6).

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About the Book

Things go from bad to worse when the Galvadi Empire develops a new technology to use against the shadow stalkers. Now Kado and Makari are more determined than ever to keep Auren away from their enemies, but Auren decides enough is enough and takes matters into her own hands. She turns herself over to the Galvadi to get close to Drevin and Makari has no choice but to play along. He is forced to either torture Auren to prove his loyalty or die knowing she will be tortured and enslaved anyway. Somehow they must get close enough to Drevin to bring him down and put an end to the Galvadi’s tyranny once and for all.

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Episode 13: Chapter 1

Cali gave me a nudge as she took a seat next to me. "Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"No idea," I said, moving over a few inches so she had space to sit between me and Shai on the log someone had converted into a bench.

Shai slung an arm around her cousin and Cali returned the gesture, then wrapped her free arm around me. I smiled at her. Cali was the only one who had helped me maintain my sanity over the years. It drove me crazy never knowing what was happening to Makari. Kado kept me busy, as usual, but any time I had a free moment, all I could do was wonder if he was safe. I would know if he died. I would sense him again in the shadow world. He had been blocking me to keep me safe, though I had no idea how it was supposed to help. All it did was make me want to go to him, which would be more dangerous.

Of course, Kado would never allow that. He saw my thoughts as I had them most of the time, and he would know as soon as I made the decision. I learned quickly not to allow my thoughts to go down that path too often. That's where Cali came in. She distracted me by helping me forget the war and making me feel like a normal person once in a while. She was as good a friend as Jade, except she didn't encourage me to disobey Kado when I was angry.

"Maybe the Galvadi have decided to give up," Shai said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Cali snorted.

"I know. It's wishful thinking."

I smiled at Shai. "I want this to be over too."

"You'll figure it out soon." Cali gave my shoulder a squeeze.

All the shadow warriors knew the end of the war would not come until I stopped Drevin. The only problem was I had no idea what I was supposed to do, and no amount of training helped. Each day it seemed like I was further from my goal instead of closer.

After everyone had taken their seats, Kado held up a hand calling us all to silence. "Makari has just given me some disheartening news. The Galvadi have developed a—"

I tried to listen, but I couldn't get past the fact that Makari had been here. "He didn't even bother to see me?"

Kado glared at me, and I suddenly realized I'd blurted it aloud.

"Makari has to keep a low profile for his own safety, and they were not aware he had left. He couldn't stay away long."

"I think it's time he left the Galvadi all together," I said, folding my arms over my chest.

"It would be the healthier option," Cali added on my behalf.

"Makari's work has been invaluable to us, and would not be possible if he weren't living among them for the time being," Kado said, then leaned in my direction looking straight into my eyes. "And he knows what he is doing."

Kado watched me, and I was sure he was waiting to see if I would continue to interrupt him. I remained silent, but neither he nor Makari would be able to convince me the man I loved wasn't taking an unnecessary risk. They could get whatever information they needed from their missions.
When he was sure I wouldn't interrupt again he finished explaining that the Galvadi had developed a new recinder and how it worked. "You will need to avoid capture at all costs. Once these recinders are placed on you, there is no known way to nullify its effects even after removal. Auren, I want you to visit Makari's unit to steal the schematics, and if possible, one of the recinders along with any other information you can find about new technologies. Makari suspects there is more, but they are keeping him in the dark."

I stood quickly, smacking my hands together. "When do I leave?"

"Wait a moment. I have other things I need to discuss with you first."

I sat again, hoping I wasn't in for one of his long lectures.

"The rest of you are dismissed. Sephir, you and Shai are clear to leave on that special mission you've been training for as soon as you're ready, but please be careful."

"We will," Sephir said, bowing.

I leaned over Cali to give Shai a quick hug. Cali wrapped her arms around both of us. Shai stood as soon as we released her, and Sephir, who had been standing next to her, wrapped an arm around her as they headed off.

"Good luck," Cali said, winking at me before following Sephir and her cousin.

Kado sat next to me. "Auren, you have been the most adept at overcoming the effects of the beryllonium. That's why I'm sending you on this mission, but you need to be extra careful this time. Makari believes even you wouldn't stand a chance with this new recinder. If they are looking for test subjects, they may also have new ways of detaining shadow stalkers that Makari might not be aware of. If you are discovered, do not take any risks. Makari will not be able to help you. You will need to leave immediately. Understood?"

"Yes, Kado. I'll be fine." I only just managed to stop my eyes from rolling.

"I'm serious, Auren. We can always return later, but if you are captured, you may be lost to us for good this time."

The fear in Kado's eyes sobered me. Things came easily to me now that I had completed my training, and though I had discovered abilities not even Kado had known about, I wasn't foolish enough to believe I was all powerful. Sometimes my foster father seemed to worry more than he should, but I was beginning to think that wasn't the case here.

"I'll be careful, Kado. I promise." It wouldn't hurt to pay Makari a little visit too if he was alone.

Kado gripped my arm and tilted my head with his free hand so I was looking directly at him. "Under no circumstances are you to seek out Makari. If you attempt something so foolish, Auren, you will be punished and banned from future missions."

My shoulders sagged. "It was an errant thought, Kado. I will focus on my mission."

"The mission and nothing else, Auren. This is important."

I nodded and averted my eyes. I just missed him. That's all it was.

"I know you miss him, Auren, and that it's been hard for you both to be apart, but it won't be forever. You and Makari will have your time in this world if the shadow people will it, but not if you risk both your lives on foolishness."

"I know. I'm sorry." Makari was being the more foolish of us both, and yet Kado supported him. It didn't make sense, but whenever I brought the subject up with either of them, they redirected the conversation.

Kado pulled me into a tight hug and whispered, "Come back to me in one piece, please."

I returned his embrace. "I will."

Fraternity of Fractures by Mark Pannebecker

Mark Pannebecker is an author of fiction and the founder of the St. Louis Indie Book Fair, an annual event created to foster authors of fiction and nonfiction. He started out as a filmmaker but soon fell in love with the creative writing process and began to shift his focus from producing and directing films to writing screenplays. He now writes in whichever genre holds the narrative best. He has written screenplays, stage plays, novels, novellas, and has recently published a collection of poetry titled Motorcycle Boy Lives and a collection of short stories titled Godsfood. His first novel, Fraternity of Fractures, was originally written as a screenplay and was published late in 2015.

Mark had never tried to get published in the past for he loved the process of creating and was happy riding his motorcycle, traveling, living, loving, and writing. But it’s time now to put his body of work out there and pick up where he left off. He is proud of his past work that he offers now and hopes you enjoy it. Mark is in the process of preparing and writing new work, alive and fresh from a long slumber. The book he’s most excited about writing is a series titled Portrait of a Tourist, a semi-autobiographical spiritual journey based on the Fools travels through the Tarot.

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About the Book

Phoenix and Justin Sunder are master cat burglars and best friends until Dylan Panicosky enters their circle of hedonism and crime. Set in the blighted city of St. Louis in the ‘80s, Fraternity of Fractures is a love triangle played out in an urban setting full of nocturnal decadence and danger, with all the players fractured in their own way.

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It was a perfect time for a robbery. Any earlier and there’d be too many people walking around; any later and the bars would be closing, causing too much activity; and later still, it would be unsafe as well as raise suspicion. Phoenix knew what she was doing.

She sat in her car listening to the Dead Kennedys, watching the thick smoke from the corner Vietnamese restaurant roll out from the exhaust fan and hang there ten feet above the sidewalk; she could smell the familiar spices of Asian cooking. The white smoke stagnating in the stale air added to her discomfort and she hoped for a breeze to cool her off.

Phoenix didn’t want to sit under the dimly lit, haloed streetlights for too long and draw attention to herself, but she saw a squad car in the rearview mirror nestled in the oncoming traffic and decided to wait; but just sitting there made her feel heavy, the gray St. Louis sky weighed her down. She started to sweat and looked again in her rearview mirror. To keep her mind off the suffocating weather she thought about the security system of Chin’s Orient Emporium and went through a mental list of what she needed to do to break it. The short rush of traffic finally drove past her, spiraling the cloud of smoke from the restaurant and sending it clutching into the night like skeleton fingers. The half-dozen cars continued down the two mile stretch of Grand Boulevard lined with inexpensive restaurants, cheap retail shops, and boarded-up buildings. When it was clear, Phoenix checked the area one more time: a handful of people, a couple of parked cars, little activity this time of night in the Tower Grove neighborhood.

She grabbed her Walkman and a cassette tape as she prepared to walk the block in a half to Chin’s Orient Emporium. When she stepped out of her car, she was immediately wrapped in the humid July weather, her black one-piece, tight around her five-foot frame, stuck to her body as she moved her oversized black nylon bag onto her tenuous shoulders.

Standing outside the building, shrouded in its shadow, Phoenix slipped surgical gloves onto her fine hands. Partly protected by the blue haze of the new moon’s light, she grabbed her small metal Mac flashlight, a pocket-sized version of what the police carry and a present from Justin Sunder, her friend and mentor, the first night they danced together. When she turned the head of her flashlight a strong white beam shot out and landed precisely on the store’s telephone line. Phoenix stood in her suit of night, poised in the dark, her muscles tight, her jaw slightly clenched, and her nipples hard. Her large green eyes followed the narrow, focused light as she traced the phone line down the side of the two-story building. When she heard a couple approaching, she quickly turned off the light, pressed against the building, and squinted.

“Your eyes are like beacons in the night,” Justin once told her, “close them.” She wished he were with her now because—although she was good—she wasn’t as good as Justin Sunder. Even though she knew Chin’s system could be easily breached she still felt a little uncomfortable dancing alone for the first time since meeting him two years ago. She had come to depend on his expertise. And she enjoyed dancing with him.

Private Spies by P.J. Nunn

In 1998, PJ Nunn founded BreakThrough Promotions (breakthroughpromotions.net), now a national public relations firm helping authors, mostly of mystery novels, publicize themselves and their work. The business is thriving and PJ is excited about the release of her first novels, Angel Killer: a Shari Markam Mystery and Private Spies: a Jesse Morgan Mystery.

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When Jesse Morgan’s boss and best friend died, she inherited Private Spies, a private investigation firm that specializes in missing persons. Unfortunately, she knew little about the business aside from her intensive work on the computer. But if Joey thought she could handle it, she felt obligated to at least give it a try. How hard could it be, right?

So Jesse took on her first case. Very straightforward. This guy is missing, find him. Oh but wait, he also kidnapped his own daughter. Find her too. Still not that hard. Except when she ran his report, the picture she found on his drivers license is of another guy. And when she found a guy who matched the first picture, he had another name. And when she found a girl that looked like the daughter, she didn’t match anything. Not good.

Enter a retired police officer named Byron (really?) who says before Joey died, he hired him to work for them. Ok. This might be helpful. But then came a stalker, and a dead guy, a dead duck and an increasing list of incidents that all seem confusing to Jesse. Up to her eyeballs in threats and questions, Jesse’s outraged when the woman who hired her decides to fire her. Unbelievable! Unable to stop at that point, Jesse is determined to find the guy and solve the case. If only it was as easy as it sounded.

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Did you ever walk into the bathroom late at night and have a sudden urge to jerk back the shower curtain? Don’t do it. Run. Giving in to those sudden urges can be a real mistake. Trust me.

Wait. You don’t know me yet. Let me start at the beginning. Ever have one of those days where nothing goes the way it should and you spend more time explaining and apologizing than you do getting things right? I’ve been having one of those years. Mom says I’m having a mid-life crisis. I say thirty-four is way too young for that but according to Mom I did everything early. Never mind that she was referring to things like dropping out of college, getting married, getting divorced. Those kinds of things. I’ll never admit it out loud, but I’m beginning to wonder if maybe she’s right.

In the last month, I’ve buried my partner and best friend, inherited the business from him (much to Mom’s dismay), and figured out that I don’t know beans about running a private investigation agency. See, I’ve been different from birth. My older sister Caroline was Mom’s little princess. Dad figured the next delivery would be his bouncing baby boy but he got me instead. Mom let him know there’d be no baby number three, so he did the only thing he could do. He passed his wealth of male knowledge on to me. While my sister took ballet lessons, I was down the street at the karate school. When Caroline and Mom hit the malls, Dad and I hit the baseball, football and basketball games. Mom drew the line at the World Wrestling Federation. We had to watch that on television at home.

So it really shouldn’t have surprised anybody that Caroline grew up with a circle of frilly friends who practiced makeup and hairstyle techniques at sleepovers while I caught crawdads in the creek with Joey Catronio. Seemed perfectly natural to me. But all good things come to an end and Joey and I had to grow up. At least in theory.

Being the obedient children that we were, we headed off to college. I think that’s where our parents’ plans really started to go awry. Joey figured out he’d never make it into medical school if he couldn’t pass chemistry and I figured out I didn’t like college at all. So Joey changed his major to computer science and I quit and did the next expected thing. I got my MRS degree. I figured I’d already disappointed both of my parents. Mom wanted me to be a doctor or lawyer or at least something important. Dad kept hoping I’d buy a ranch and revive the old West. I didn’t think I was likely to do either, but maybe marriage was something I could do right. At least it was respectable and my husband was a banker. That’s good, right?

Unfortunately, he wasn’t all that respectable after all. Two years after the wedding at the ripe old age of twenty-two, I decided to surprise him at the office and take him to lunch. I surprised him all right. His secretary, too. Silly me. When she wasn’t at her desk, I just barged right in to his office. He was all comfortable, rocked back in that big leather chair. Too bad he hit her in the face with his knee when the chair hit the floor. Talk about being caught with your pants down. Probably dropped something under his desk and, like a dutiful secretary, she was picking it up. Right.

Always ready to do the wifely thing, I hurried over to help him zip his pants. He probably didn’t realize his fly was open. Damned if I didn’t screw up again, though. How was I supposed to know you have to tuck Mr. Wiggly back in the jockeys before you zip up? I can still hear that strange yowling noise he made almost fourteen years later. Still see Lucy’s face, too. Man, was she surprised. Or maybe she was just annoyed about the huge hole in her pantyhose when she got up off the floor. I swear I don’t know how that letter opener got close enough to do that much damage. Maybe if she wore dresses long enough to cover her ass that sort of thing wouldn’t happen.

In the meantime, Joey graduated from college and started his own business. Private Spies. Catchy name, huh? A classic computer geek, he’d found his niche. Amazingly enough, he did pretty good business. With a huge web site he updated almost every day, he advertised world wide that he could find anybody, anywhere, if the price was right. And most of the time, he could. Some people, my mother included, thought it was a shady business, but it was legal. Mostly.

When Joey invited me to join him, I knew I’d found my dream job. I could sit in front of my computer all day. I could wear jeans and cowboy boots. I could set my own hours. Besides all that, I got business cards with my name on them. Never got those working at Wal-Mart. That was five years ago, and I’ve been there ever since. I even have my own parking space at the office. How cool is that? It has my name on it. Jesse Morgan. It’s really Jesse Morgan Jackson, but I don’t talk about that last part much. My parents are strange, naming me Jesse when they knew what their last name was.


Now that Joey has passed, parking in the space beside his every day was still unsettling, even though the building super removed his name for me. I’d offered the space to Bernice, our secretary, receptionist and jack-of-all-trades but she wouldn’t have it. Honestly, after Joey died, I’d thought about selling out. Thought about it hard. Then I figured, it’s all I have left of Joey and he loved it. Besides, what was I supposed to do? Go back to work at Wal-Mart? I inherited my dad’s poker face. What I didn’t know, I could bluff my way out of.
Determined to make it work, I crossed the room to flip on my computer. It seemed odd in there with no lights and no Bernice. Her desk sits right in front of the door with an assortment of chairs scattered around a big coffee table. Not that we had many walk in clients, but you never know. Mine and Joey’s occupied opposite corners in the back.

I settled into the chair behind my desk and started sorting and stacking piles, making a clear space to work, then picked the stacks off Joey’s desk and spent the rest of the afternoon making new ones. Things for Bernice to file, people to call, cases to close, bills to pay, invoices to send. When the phone rang, interrupting my intense concentration, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Unscrupulous by M.E. May

Michele (M.E.) May attended Indiana University in Kokomo, Indiana, studying Social and Behavioral Sciences. Her interest in the psychology of humans sparked the curiosity to ask why they commit such heinous acts upon one another. Other interests in such areas as criminology and forensics have moved her to put her vast imagination to work writing crime fiction that is as accurate as possible. In doing so, she depicts societal struggles that pit those who understand humanity with those who are lost in a strange and dangerous world of their own making.

In creating the Circle City Mystery Series, she brings to life fictional characters who work diligently to bring justice to victims of crime in the city of Indianapolis. Michele also hopes her readers will witness through her eyes, the wonderful city she calls her hometown.

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Christmas is only a week away, but not all is merry and bright for Sergeant Brent Freeman and his partner, newly promoted Detective Anne Samuels. They find themselves facing more than a homicide when they discover the victim’s five-year-old daughter, Maricella, is missing.

When suspicion moves to human trafficking and gang involvement, the FBI sends in two of their best to assist in the investigation. In the meantime, two people who insist her mother didn’t want her anymore have transported a terrified little Maricella out of state. Fortunately, she finds solace in two older children. These two soon realize their captors are prepping Maricella for organ harvesting. Their main goal becomes to protect her at any cost, even if it means running away in the snow and bitter cold temperatures of December without any knowledge of the area where they’re being held. Can Maricella’s newfound protectors get her out of the house and to safety before the doctor decides she’s a transplant match? Will Brent discover where these unscrupulous persons are hiding the children before it’s too late?

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“Where is Mamá?” little Maricella whined from the back seat of the minivan. “I want to go home. I have to go to the doctor and then get ready for school.”

“Cállate!” The fat woman in the front seat turned and scowled at her. “You’re too young to go to school.”

“Abuela Elena takes me to kindergarten….”

“I said, shut up!”

At only five, Maricella knew better than to keep talking when an angry adult started screaming at her. Her mamá always sent her to her room when Papá got mad. She would hear him yelling at Mamá and then he would break things. Sometimes he would hit Mamá and make her cry.

The fat lady finally stopped glaring at her and turned around. She was really mean. Maricella heard her hit an older boy named John right across the face before they left the big house she was taken to last night. He had a big bruise on his cheek now. The skinny man got real mad at her. He said she’d damaged the merchandise, whatever that meant. John didn’t get to go with them today. He stayed at the house with a really old guy who had an ugly gray beard and never smiled.

At least the skinny man wasn’t like her Papá. He got mad, but he didn’t hit anybody. Last night, he came into her room in the dark and took her out of her bed. When he carried her out, she noticed her mamá sleeping on the floor in the hall in some red stuff. Maricella was confused because Mamá had never slept in the hall before.

The man put her in the back seat of a black minivan and then the fat lady brought out a paper bag and told him those were Maricella’s clothes. The lady roughly put her into the seatbelt and told the man to drive. Maricella asked the man where they were going and why her mamá couldn’t come.

He didn’t answer, but the mean lady did. “She doesn’t want you anymore, so you’re going to a new home.”

She couldn’t understand why her mamá wouldn’t want her anymore. She’d been good. Abuela Elena had told her so. Then she decided they must be taking her to her abuela’s house. Even if Mamá didn’t want her any longer, Abuela Elena would.

That isn’t where they took her, though. The fat woman pulled her from the minivan, forcing her inside a big house in a strange neighborhood. She pushed Maricella and told her to sit on a big brown chair and not to move. Terrified, Maricella wouldn’t dare move. She heard them arguing in another room. That’s when she heard the woman hit John.”

The fat lady said they needed to leave by five because they had to deliver Amber the next day. Maricella didn’t know what time it was when she was ordered into the car, but it was still dark.

“Amber?” Maricella said to the girl in the other seat.

Amber had been looking out of the window ever since they got into the car and hadn’t said a word. The girl didn’t look at her; she simply continued to stare out the window.

“No talking,” said the fat lady, returning to glare at her again.

Maricella lowered her eyes and nodded. She glanced momentarily at the other girl who hadn’t moved, and then turned to stare out her own window at the leafless trees.