Dark Prelude, Moonsongs Book 3

By E.J. Wesley

Jenny Moonsong recently inherited the title of "monster hunter" and an ancient tribal journal/how-to manual passed down by her Apache ancestors. Unfortunately, a lot of on-the-job training is required to be a monster hunter, and unlike her computer repair business, this gig could literally kill her.

Dark Prelude finds the feisty protagonist, Jenny, searching for her best friend Marshal's missing father in the midst of a freak, West Texas winter storm. To survive the frigid night, she'll have to deal with a hated town rival, face a monstrous creature no Moonsong hunter has ever encountered before, and undo a mysterious curse. Can she keep everyone alive? If not, who will pay the ultimate price?

Dark Prelude is the third volume of the Moonsongs Books, an ongoing series of New Adult, paranormal-horror-action novelettes by author E.J. Wesley.

(These stories contain language and content better suited for readers 17+)

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.J. Wesley
• Release date: Apr 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301976928

E.J. Wesley

Growing up in small-town Oklahoma, there were limits on the amount and types of entertainment at my disposal. Perhaps that’s why I set my imagination free. After collecting degrees in psychology and counseling, life brought me to Missouri, Texas, and Northern California—where I currently read, write, and live. I fill my spare time playing video games, watching movies, planning for the zombie apocalypse, reading graphic novels, and playing with my dogs.

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Dark Prelude

Moonsongs Book 3

E.J. Wesley

Dark Prelude, Moonsongs Book 3

Copyright © 2013 by E.J. Wesley

Smashwords Editions

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
 may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or critical analysis. If you didn’t legally obtain this book, please respect the author’s efforts and purchase a copy via an authorized retailer.

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities between the details found herein and the real world are fictitious or a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.

All copyright inquiries can be directed to:

[e-mail]

Editing by:

Labelle’s Writing on the Wall Editorial Serviceshttp://labelleseditorialservices.com

Other books by E.J. Wesley in the Moonsongs series at Smashwords.com:

Blood Fugue, Moonsongs Book 1

Witch’s Nocturne, Moonsongs Book 2

This is for my siblings, Rob, Lisa, and Brad. You’re pillars in my life, and a day never passes without you in my thoughts. Family, best friends, confidants, role models—you are all of these things to me, and so much more.

Contents

Dedication

Beginning

Acknowledgements

About the Author

The past never seemed to stay where I left it. Like an old, haggard stray cat, memories had a way of sticking around. And the less desirable they were, the more they stuck.

Take my dead grandfather for example. The first time he disappeared from my life I was learning my numbers and barely tying my own shoes. That version of the man had been a little girl’s best friend and a living family heirloom. When he was gone, I’d been left with a broken heart and a handful of fond memories. The second time he exited—a few months ago—I’d been old enough to buy my own beer and stay up all night playing video games without fear of an ass chewing. That man had been a scary and mysterious stranger. He’d brought me tidings of my hidden family legacy of hunting monsters, and a newfound connection with my Apache ancestors via an ancient tribal journal. He departed yet again, but this time my heart remained mostly intact, and the memories were more of the terrifying sort.

Both versions of my grandfather fought in my mind as I drove my oversized, black pickup truck through our dusty Texas town, Center Pointe. I was heading to visit my best friend, Marshal, who would hopefully distract me from my thoughts.

Maybe he’d also help me figure out why my paranormal investigation business had been so slow lately. Nothing weird had happened in weeks, making me think the freaks of the world were on holiday. I supposed a single werewolf and a few witches were the extent of the supernatural goings on in the world, but the increasingly large pit of worry in my gut said otherwise.

In less than a minute, I’d driven through the small, mismatched collection of steel and brick buildings we called a downtown. A few more blocks, and I’d reached the far end of town. I spotted Bill Swartz, our local constable, sitting in his squad car. My jaw clinched tight enough to make my teeth hurt.

Bill graduated a few years ahead of me. He’d joined the Army Reserve right out of high school. Shortly thereafter, he’d been injured fighting in Afghanistan, and subsequently discharged from service. He returned home a hero, and did what any former Center Pointe football star would do. He became a cop, so he could harass the same folks he’d spent his entire youth bullying.

The blue lights on the squad car flashed to life the instant I drove past.

Shit.

Normally, when police lights came on, I’d take a quick look around to see who they were after. This time, there was no need. I was the only vehicle on the road within a four-block radius, and this was Bill. I slowed and pulled off to the side of the street, making sure to drive up on the curb before coming to a stop.

That should really piss him off.

We had a little history, Bill and I. Most of it had to do with him being an asshole, and me reminding him—often—of how bad I hated the smell. I guess I’d earned some of his disdain for me when I refused to go to prom with him. But when a guy gets back from basic training and asks a sophomore in high school to take him to her prom, it’s a little creepy. Creepier still, Marshal had actually heard some people around town talk bad about me for not giving in to his passes.

Screw them.

I knew the truth. Bill’s buddies had told him I was new and would be an easy lay. After I informed him the only action he’d ever get from me was the pump-action, shotgun kind, he quit chasing me. Romantically speaking at least. In the end, I’d hurt whatever mutated