Wicked & Preternatural by D K Gaston

Author:D K Gaston
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-03-31T04:00:00+00:00

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Night had settled in by the time Zoë came to a stop. Alongside the darkness, a chill breeze unusual for the season bit against an ear like cold breath. She wondered whether the sensation stemmed from her paranoid imagination or a whispered promise from Death himself. After stowing the mp4 player in a pocket of her jacket, she slipped off the motorcycle. The old rusty garage door rose automatically, unaccompanied by the predictable sounds of a motor’s whine or the creaking of strained metal.

She pushed the Harley inside the murky storage area. Despite the pitch-black, a pair of unblinking glowing green eyes watched menacingly in a back section of the enclosed space. Zoë knew who those eyes belonged to and what it meant to an uninvited guest. She would not be viewed as a threat by the creature. However, when regarding the bound boy, the weighing green gaze retreated into the darkness as if repelled.

“O-kay, that was different,” she said, before lifting her prisoner off the motorcycle.

The entry quietly closed behind them as the pair exited. Zoë and E crossed the yard to the house where the backdoor was left ajar. She guided the boy ahead of her. Inside the kitchen, chicken and sausage Jambalaya cooked on the stove. Standing at the sink with her back to them, Zazzie Odom Jiwe rubbed a plate dry.

“I would say I was happy to see you, Zoë, but that would be a lie,” Zazzie said, “You’ve managed to spook my cat, which is not a task easily done.”

“Sorry about that,” Zoë replied, eyeing the Jambalaya. Her stomach growled.

The dark-skinned woman set the plate down and picked up another to dry. “Who’s your young friend?”

“Not a friend.” The monster hunter looked down at the boy. “He’s my meal ticket.”

Zazzie stopped her wiping and turned around. “And you bring him here to me?”

As always, Zoë couldn’t help but be amazed by her friend’s appearance and admittedly somewhat envious.

Her wavy midnight-black hair was tied to a bun to the back of her head, yet strands somehow managed to flow over her face and drape across her thick, neatly trimmed eyebrows. Big expressive eyes as brown as maple syrup took in the boy. Since Zazzie rarely applied makeup to her skin, it was a wonder how she always managed to avoid dry lips--they shimmered under the kitchen’s lights to highlight their fullness. The tight-fitting multi-colored dashiki dress emphasized the strong yet delicate figure of her athletically toned body.

“I need you to do me a solid,” the monster hunter said, wishing she had her friend’s hips.

The woman’s maple eyes went to Zoë. “Is he another stray? Was I not enough trouble for you that you had to go find someone else to help?”

Four years ago, Zoë was hired to track down a witch accused of abducting children from several powerful families, in a plot of revenge against them. But, as she tracked Zazzie, the monster hunter discovered inconsistencies in the story fed to her by the families. The children’s kidnappings had less to do with revenge and more to do with being rescued.

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