Beyond The Door (9 page)

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Authors: Phaedra Weldon

Tags: #vampires, #urban fantasy, #wraith, #astral travel, #revenant, #out of body, #grimoire, #phaedra weldon, #abysmal tales, #beyond the door, #zoe martinique dags mcconnell, #zoe martinique book 5, #abysmal vampires, #zoe vampires, #daniel frasier

BOOK: Beyond The Door
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Excerpt From
 

GEIST
 

Zoë Martinique Investigation Series, Book
5

 

 

I didn't know if it was me getting angry and
thinking of Dags at the same time or wishful thinking. I don't even
know how much time passed between my chat with Geist and what
happened next.

I do know that suddenly—

I wasn't filtering things through the murky
depths of the egg, looking out at a run-down theater. And I wasn't
looking behind me into the vast distance of the
universe.

I was looking at—some girl with tattoos on her
face and bleached white hair?

And she was coming at me with a
machete!

"Look out!" I heard a voice shout.

"I see her!"

Whoa! I flinched as I raised a sword and
blocked the attack. The two metals clanked and the impact vibrated
up through my right arm. I took in a deep breath and pushed her
back just before I feigned to the left.

Tattoo-Chick came at me with her machete again.
I pivoted to my right and with her momentum she moved just past me
as I brought the blade of the sword up and sliced it downward at
her. It connected with the back of her neck and—

HOLY HELL!

Her head popped off!

What channel had I tuned into?

Wherever it was, there were more oddly tattooed
people fighting around me. As I started to look around I realized
that I recognized most of the people fighting against the ones with
tattoos.

Jason!

Nick!

Was that Rhonda?

And Joe!

"Hey—" a familiar voice to my right shouted and
I looked over at—
Daniel!
"Handle that one and I think we're
good."

I felt myself nod and turned to see a much
bigger, much uglier tattoo-faced guy heading my way. He didn't have
a machete. No. This guy had a—

CHAINSAW!

The thunder from its engine and quickly moving
blades forced me to move back. When he came at me, I blocked with
my sword, turned, and was behind him. Whoever these guys were they
were almost fast in their attacks.

With Chainsaw's back to me I tried to dispatch
him in a similar fashion to his tattoo-laced girlfriend. Sadly my
luck seemed to run out. It didn't work! The guy's head didn't come
off. Hell I didn't even get my blade near it. Instead he brought
his yard tool up and blocked my killing blow. My sword bounced back
and I lost my grip on it. Did whoever I was in really think that
move would work? I mean…come on. You can't expect to use the same
feign-and-slash attack over and over again. And certainly not
against a chainsaw!

With a nice backpedal I stumbled over something
in the floor and landed on my back with the wind knocked out of
me.

GET UP!
I shrieked.

Something shook me—this body—who ever I was
with. I was trying to figure out which one of my old Scooby Doo
gang I had slipped my astral self into—because that was the only
way I could be seeing the others. It wasn't any of the ones I could
see.

Was I inside of TC?

Was that possible? He didn't really have a body
did he?

And I wasn't thinking I knew anyone that
wielded a sword but—

Wait—

Dags had a sword a few times.

I'd seen him use it.

I was...I was...

I was
what
?

I was inside of
him
? I was inside of
Dags
?  Had I been successful? Could he...could he hear
me?

Should I try it?

No time! Chainsaw on the down
stroke!

I scrambled back and was having a hard time
breathing—

Then I saw another chainsaw—a much bigger, much
badder one—intercept my attacker's. That yard tool was attached to
an arm; literally attached to a muscular arm ala "Evil
Dead!"

"Sorry ass-wipe," a familiar, deep voice said.
"But you ain't gutt'n Bookboy."

TC!

His familiar bald head came into view as I lay
on the floor and tried to breathe. What happened to me? To Dags?
Why was I gasping for breath?

Something wet and hot splashed across my face.
I looked down the length of my body—at Dags' body—and saw blood
splattered all over a green tee shirt, jeans, and arms.

Dags' arms.

Strong, tan arms.

He was alive. And he was whole and fighting. He
wasn't a doll anymore!

TC was over me, his hand on Dags' shoulder. He
looked good—as he always had except for the gaunt cheeks and dark
circles under his eyes. What was wrong with him? "Hey, book-boy.
You okay? Looks like that machete bitch scored."

"Yeah," I said.

DAGS! It's me! I'm here!

Again there was a start, as if Dags' body had a
shock run through it.

"Kid?"

"Azrael...get Rhonda. I think—"

"She's coming. She'll get you healed up real
quick. Looks like we got 'em all."

"No no...it's not that. I think..."

But Rhonda was suddenly in my face beside TC.
"Baby...it's okay. Looks like she just pierced skin. A few stitches
and you'll be okay."

Baby?

Hello? Since when did
you
call
my
man baby?

"No," Dags reached out and grabbed Rhonda's
hand. Rhonda squeezed back.

I fumed. What was with the
hand-holding?

"What is it? Was this too much for you? Jesus,
I knew we shouldn't have brought you along yet."

"No..." he shook his head. "I wanted to do
something, remember? I just..." he gave a long sigh. "It's just
that...I think I heard Zoë."

 

 

About The Author

 

Phaedra Weldon is a writer and mother of one.
Born in Pensacola, Florida, Phaedra was raised in the lush, green
southern tropic of Georgia. She grew up on southern ghost stories
told while eating marshmallows around campfires, or on the back of
pick-up trucks in the middle of cornfields on chilly October
nights.  She worked as a Graphic Artist for over twenty years
in the publishing and sign industries until she became a full time
writer in 2009. Phaedra currently lives in Atlanta, Georgia with
her husband and daughter. 

 

Smashwords Edition License
Notes

 

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All rights reserved. Without limiting the
rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the
prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the
publisher of this book.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the
author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author
acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used
without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not
authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark
owners.

 

This work and everything in it is the sole
property of Phaedra M. Weldon. Any copying or reprinting will be
prosecuted to the furthest extent of the law. 

 

Author's Websites

 
www.phaedraweldon.com

www.zoemartinique.com

 

If you liked this story drop the author a note
at [email protected]

 

Other books by Phaedra
Weldon

Revenants Novels

Native
Soil

 

Grimoire Chronicles

Grimoire

 

Back Door Series

Back Door
Magic

Back Door
Curse

 

Zoë Martinique
Investigations

Wraith

Out Of The
Dark

Spectre

Phantasm

Revenant

Beyond The Door

Geist

 

Siobhan and Abyssinian

Mirror
Mirror

Here Be
Monsters

 

 

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