A Snippet

I’m gearing up for the launch of the 7th Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigation: Van Dyne’s Zuvembies.

The release date is July 20th.

The final read through, actually the computer is reading the text to me, is going along nicely, and I’m still catching extra words, an extra space between words, and the like. I want the text as clean as I can make it. No one likes a text with errors. Yet they happen. Even to the big corporate guys. If I get a book for free or under $3, I’m pretty forgiving. If I’m paying big bucks, much less so.

To wet your whistle for the new Pierce Mostyn, I’m giving you a snippet. Enjoy the Prologue to Van Dyne’s Zuvembies!

She looked at the address, back at the slip of paper, and then back at the number over the door.

This is the place, she thought, and walked down the short walk to the door. A man, coming out, held the door for her.

“Thank you,” she said, and entered the building. A ordinary, nondescript three-story on Northern Boulevard in Queens.

The directory in the lobby told her she wanted the third floor. At the elevator, she pressed the up button and waited. There was a bit of a musty odor to the old and dingy carpet, and the young woman wrinkled her nose at the smell. When the elevator doors opened, she got in, and pressed three. In a moment the doors opened once more, she got out, and turned into the corridor. 

Suite 304 was to her left. She walked a dozen steps and stopped in front of a plain door with frosted glass window and the name Asher and Associates painted on the glass in black letters.

She looked once more at the slip of paper, took a deep breath, and  exhaled. Her hand pushed down on the door handle, and giving it a push,  the door opened, and the young woman walked in.

There was a small waiting room with a half-dozen beige plastic chairs lined up along one wall. A pretty little redhead, with the most beautiful smile, sat behind a desk opposite the plastic chairs. A counter fronted the desk, and a sign announced that the desk was home to the receptionist.

The redhead, smile still in place, said, “How may I help you?”

“I’m Sofia Rivera. I have an appointment for three.”

The receptionist looked at her computer screen, tapped a few keys, and studied the screen for a moment.

Sofia was jealous. How could anyone be so happy as to smile like that?

The redhead looked at her. “Please have a seat. The therapist will be with you in a minute.”

Sofia sat and put her hand in her pocket for her phone. It wasn’t there, and the anger bubbled up. Why did they have to take her phone away? It was so unfair. And if her sister hadn’t blabbed…

God, I hate Maria, she thought. Why can’t Dad take my side? And that woman he married. She really, really has it in for me. I hate them. I hate them all.

A door next to the receptionist opened, and a dark-skinned Indian woman called her name.

Sofia got up and walked over to her.

The woman smiled and said, “I’m Kashvi Pushpagiri, your therapist. Follow me.”

She led Sofia to a room that was on the spacious side, indicated a chair for her to sit in, and took a seat in the chair across from her. A round coffee table sat between the two chairs.

“So tell me why you’ve come to see me.”

“Everyone’s against me.”

The therapist arched an eyebrow. “Everyone?”

“My dad never takes my side. My sister’s a blabbermouth. My step-mom thinks I’m worthless and turns my dad against me. I just hate them.”

“You hate them? Actually hate them?”

There was a pause. “Well, maybe hate is a little strong.”

“Is it? Perhaps you do hate them. Didn’t they wrong you? Aren’t they against you?”

“Well, yeah, they are.”

“Have you considered that perhaps they hate you.”

“Really?”

Pushpagiri nodded.

“Wow. I never thought of that. I mean, like, I can see my step-mom, and maybe my sister, but my dad?”

“Did you want him to marry your step-mom?”

“Hell, no!” Realizing what she’d said, Sofia, somewhat embarrassed, apologized. “Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright. You are in emotional pain. Those who should love you, don’t. You are all alone. But I’m here to help.” Kashvi favored Sofia with a smile.

“You really think they’re against me?”

“Why are you defending them?”

“I’m not!”

“Sounds like it to me. Do you want to be walked on your entire life?”

“No. No, I don’t want that.”

“Your sister blabbed something which you trusted her to keep a secret.”

Sofia nodded.

“What was it?”

“I had my boyfriend over when Dad and Lu, that’s my step-mom, Lucinda, when they were out.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“Well, uh, we were, uh, in my room and…”

“You were having sex.”

“No, not sex. But we were, well, you know.”

“Making out.”

“Yeah.”

“And your sister told your dad and step-mom and you got in trouble.”

“She even called me a slut! Lu did. She should talk.”

“Sofia, it’s very important, if you want to become a strong woman, it’s very important for you to face and express your rage. You must voice your hate. We at Asher and Associates practice what we call primal rage therapy.”

“I just want what’s fair.”

“We all do.”

“So what’s this primal rage thing?”

“Women have been held down for a long time. Essentially ever since humans began. Prehistoric women, because they were weaker than men, were abused by them. Skeletons of those prehistoric women show what are commonly called abuse fractures. And let’s face it: nothing’s changed. We are still being abused. Biologically we carry the rage, the hate, of our abuse in our DNA. That’s why it is very important for us to let it out. To stop repressing it. We must go back to our primal state and rage against our oppressors.”

“How do I do that?”

“By using the oppressors and abusers we face today to take us back to our primal selves. Each day, you must do a five-minute hate. Put the picture of one of your oppressors before you and scream out your hate. Change the picture each day. Did you bring a picture with you?”

Sofia nodded. “I brought a picture of my sister.”

“Good. Let’s practice the five-minute hate right now. Put the picture on the coffee table. Let’s hate her together.”

For five minutes Kashvi Pushpagiri and Sofia Rivera hurled abuse and hateful words at the picture. They screamed at it and hit it. When the five minutes were over, Sofia felt exhausted, yet invigorated.

“I’m going to give you our special primal hate drink.” Kashvi walked over to a shelf, retrieved a bottle, and gave it to Sofia. “Drink this tonight and while doing so fill your mind with hateful thoughts. Remember how freeing the five-minute hate felt?”

Sofia nodded.

“Think those thoughts again while drinking the bottle.”

“That’s it? Just drink this?”

“Yes and don’t forget the hateful thoughts while drinking. It doesn’t taste very good, so drink it quickly. You have to drink all of it. Thinking the hateful thoughts helps the medicine go down.” Kashvi smiled.

Sofia looked at the bottle, and then at her therapist. “Okay.”

“That’s it. See you next week. Brittany will set you up with an appointment.”

Kashvi stood and walked Sofia out to the lobby.

At the door they said goodbye. Kashvi went back to her office and Sofia walked over to the reception desk. 

The redhead gave her an appointment card with a date and time on it. “Does that work for you?”

Sofia looked at the card and nodded. “Does this stuff really work?”

The redhead smiled. “Yes, it does. You will be a whole new person.”

Sofia smiled and left the office. On the elevator going down, she realized how free she’d felt after that hating. She actually felt good and empowered. And she liked feeling good.

The Empty Quarter

One of the most lonely places on the planet is the Rub’ al Khali, or the Empty Quarter — that vast expanse of towering sand dunes that has an area greater in size than the country of France.

A few Bedouin tribes live on the edge of this immensely beautiful wasteland. Virtually nothing lives in the desert interior.

The Empty Quarter is part of the greater Arabian desert, which is the eastward continuation of the Sahara. And it is the setting for the newest Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigation adventure.

For quite some time now I’ve been fascinated with the Empty Quarter. I’ve never been there, and at my age may never get there. But I have been to a place that will give you a little taste of the Rub’ al Khali. And that place is Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado.

The dunes look like a great big pile of sand that some giant left behind. The sand covers about 30 square miles and are the tallest dunes in North America, towering upwards of 750 feet. They give one a hint as to what’s in store for them should they visit the Empty Quarter.

In writing Demons in the Dunes, I tried to give the reader a picture and feel for what it is like in the Empty Quarter. My main source book was Arabian Sands by Wilfred Thesiger, who crossed the area twice in the late 1940s.

Of course, Demons in the Dunes is fiction. A Lovecraftian-flavored adventure yarn that is perhaps closer to something Robert E Howard might have written than HPL. Regardless of influence, the story draws upon the legend and mystery of the lost city of Iram, adds a dollop of the Cthulhu Mythos, a bit of seasoning from The Mummy, and a whole lot of sauce from my overactive imagination.

You can get Demons in the Dunes here — and I truly hope you enjoy it. I’ve been told it’s the best Mostyn yet, and that makes me very happy.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

Demons in the Dunes

Next week Pierce Mostyn and the OUP gang ride again, in another terrifyingly action-packed tale of cosmic horror.

The Rub’ al Khali, or the Empty Quarter, is a fascinating place. I find it almost as intriguing as Antarctica.

What makes the Rub’ al Khali so interesting? It is the largest sand desert in the world. It covers some 250,000 square miles of the southern Arabian Peninsula. The desert is larger than France and somewhat smaller than Texas.

This vast expanse of sand is home to the lost city of Iram, which is mentioned in the Qur’an, and may have been an important city in the ancient frankincense trade.

The Empty Quarter is the setting for Lovecraft’s story “The Nameless City”, and is also the setting for Demons in the Dunes, Pierce Mostyn’s newest adventure.

Did Lovecraft’s story play any part in the origin of Demons in the Dunes? It did. HPL’s story gave me the idea to set an adventure in the Empty Quarter, with Iram as the focal point.

However, the Nameless City of Lovecraft’s story is clearly not Iram. Consequently, the story line of Demons has no direct influence from Lovecraft. Although it is Lovecraftian to a degree.

Little is known about the actual city of Iram. It may have been located on the frankincense caravan route. Legend has it that it was built by giants to challenge God by creating a paradise on earth greater then God’s paradise. God, of course, destroyed the giants and the city.

Iram is called Iram of the Pillars, but we don’t know why. One Internet source, attributed mystical connections to the city. According to this view, Iram actually occupies several planes of existence, and, in accordance with the mystical position, an alternate reading of the city’s title is Iram of the Old Ones. No self-respecting Cthulhu Mythos aficionado can walk away from that tidbit of info and not have the cogs whirring in his brain!

Out of those seeds, Demons in the Dunes grew. I had great fun writing it. I hope you have great fun reading it.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

Still More Suggested Reads

This is my fourth list of suggested books and authors with which you can while away those lazy summer days, or hunker down and wait out inclement winter weather if you’re south of the equator.

Banana Sandwich by Steve Bargdill

Actually anything by Mr Bargdill is well worth your money and your time. For example, here is a story that is a superb example of show, don’t tell: http://www.tingemagazine.org/left-with-the-moon/

In Banana Sandwich, Carol is mentally ill. After a stint of being off her meds, she decides to start taking them again and get better. And then the world goes crazy on her.

This is a masterful novel. It’s funny. It’s sad. It’s dark. One of the best works of contemporary literary fiction out there.

Don’t miss this one. I own all of Bargdill’s published work. He is one awesome writer. Incredibly awesome.

Hotel Obscure by Lisette Brodey

This book is billed as a collection of short stories. Nix that. I mean they are, technically speaking, short stories. However, Ms Brodey has written the stories around a theme and they are to be read in the order they appear in the book. So to my way of thinking, Hotel Obscure is something of an episodic novel rather than just a short story collection.

Having worked in public assistance, I could easily relate to the characters in this book, because only the down and out go to the Hotel Obscure.

The book, however, lives on a much grander scale. Because it is about people, and living, and dying, and the meaning of life.

Hotel Obscure is a fabulous book. I highly recommend it.

Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigations by CW Hawes

Hey! Wait a minute! I know that guy! Okay, maybe I’m cheating, but this is my blog and I want to do a little promo for the Pierce Mostyn series and the new Mostyn adventure that is coming out at the end of this month.

I’ve been very pleased with the good things that have been said about the Pierce Mostyn books.

Here’s an excerpt from a review of Nightmare in Agate Bay:

CW Hawes, author of the fantastic “Rocheport Saga”, has done it again putting together a well-crafted story that slowly builds in tension. Trust me, you won’t want to put it down! Hawes has managed to capture that Lovecraftian atmosphere that so many get wrong, superbly managing to weave a contemporary thread to the shadowed tapestry of the past. Bravo indeed!

Now if comments like that don’t warm an author’s heart, nothing will.

I serialized the working draft of The Medusa Ritual, the fifth book in the Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigations series, on this blog and if you read the blog installments, thank you!

If you decided to wait for the book to come out, good for you. Because good things come to those who wait.

I got good feedback on the book and all those improvements will be in the book version. So even if you read the serial — the book will be even better.

Keep your eyes peeled. Watch this blog, my Facebook page, and my Twitter account for the publication announcement.

Or better yet, sign up for my VIP Readers list. You’ll be the first to know, get exclusive offers, and you’ll get “The Feeder” which is a Pierce Mostyn novelette exclusively for my VIP Readers.

Here is another review excerpt, this one for Terror in the Shadows:

Terror in the Shadows, the third book in the adventures of Pierce Mostyn and the Office of Unidentified Phenomena, picks up where Stairway to Hell left off. …to investigate strange sightings and attacks in a rural countryside. The investigation leads Mostyn's team to an abandoned mansion, where things quickly go from bad to worse as a certain family history turns out to have gone downhill... if not down the gene pool.

Terror returns to territory Hawes traveled with Nightmare in Agate Bay, where he explores HP Lovecraft stories in a more modern setting. In this case, Hawes plays homage to Lovecraft’s “The Lurking Fear” (there’s a brief reference to the title in the first chapter - don’t miss it!). The idea of “regression” is well explored in the storyline, and is well explained in contrast to evolution. The climax of the story is especially exciting, like a strange cross between Lovecraft’s original narrative and the climax of the original Assault on Precinct 13.

If you haven’t read the Pierce Mostyn series, you can check it out on Amazon. But remember: there be monsters here!

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

The Medusa Ritual - Installment 12

The Medusa Ritual

A Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigation

by

CW Hawes

While clues are being gathered to find the both the mysterious book and Dr Dotty Kemper, we discover that Dotty is being held prisoner and experiencing luxury reserved for kings and queens. Which, Dotty admits, is very nice. But she wants to go home and initiates her own plan to escape.

Read on! The adventure continues!

Chapter 13

While Jones and Hammerschmidt were at the Chinese Catholic Church. NicAskill and Dr Petrie were talking to shop owners on the south end of Chinatown.

“These people seem awfully tight-lipped, don’t you think?” Petrie said.

“They do at that,” NicAskill agreed. “I think they’re scared, and scared people aren’t going to talk unless they know there won’t be any repercussions from talking.”

“We’re telling them we’re the IRS. Can’t get much bigger or more powerful than that.”

“Perhaps, Dr Petrie, but we don’t live here. Once we’re gone, we’re gone. The people they’re afraid of will still be here.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Let’s change tactics.” NicAskill opened the shop door. “Just follow my lead.” And she walked in, Petrie behind her.

NicAskill walked up to the counter. The only other people in the shop looked to be tourists. Behind the counter was an old woman. NicAskill said, “Hi! Are you the owner?”

The old woman looked at NicAskill, her face blank, then turned and yelled a stream of words in a language that wasn’t English. In a moment, a young attractive woman pushed aside a bead curtain and stepped behind the counter.

“Hi! How may I help you?”

“We’re with Around the World Realty and we’re looking for the owner.”

“The owner?”

NicAskill smiled and nodded.

The young woman turned to the older woman and started speaking in whatever language it was they spoke. The old woman answered, and the young woman turned back to NicAskill.

“I’m sorry, but my grandmother doesn’t know who owns the building. All of the shop keepers have a lease with Golden Dragon Management Company. They handle everything.”

“Thank you,” NicAskill said. “Do you happen to have an address or phone number?”

The young woman turned to the old woman and said something. The old woman replied. The young woman turned back to NicAskill. “Excuse me. My grandmother thinks there’s a business card in the office. One moment, please.”

“Sure. Thank you,” NicAskill said.

The young woman disappeared behind the beaded curtain. NicAskill turned away and began looking at a tea set. Petrie picked up a vase and looked at the price tag on the bottom.

“What? They want two hundred and fifty for this? Outrageous.”

NicAskill cast a glance Petrie’s way. “It’s pretty.”

“Not for two-fifty it isn’t.”

The young woman returned, and NicAskill stepped back up to the counter. The young woman slid a sheet of paper over to NicAskill. “I made a copy of the card for you.”

NicAskill picked up the paper, thanked her, and headed for the door. Petrie was already out on the sidewalk.

When NicAskill was standing next to the doctor, Petrie asked, “Does it look legit?”

I don’t know,” NicAskill replied. “There’s one way to find out.” She took out her phone and dialed the number. After a moment, she put the phone away.

“Went straight to voicemail. We can set up a dummy return number and try again.”

“What about email?”

NicAskill looked at the copy of the card. “They have an email address. We’ll have to set up a dummy email account.”

“Now what?” Petrie asked.

“We keep doing what we’ve been doing. Let’s try the real estate ploy at that restaurant over there.”

NicAskill and Petrie crossed the street and entered the restaurant. A young woman smiled at them and asked if there were just the two of them.

“We’d like to speak to the owner, if possible,” NicAskill said.

The smile disappeared and a look of concern took over her face. “I hope there is no problem. The owner is not here. I am his daughter. Perhaps I can help?”

NicAskill said, “We’re with Around the World Real Estate and we’re prepared to make a good offer to buy the building.”

Relief replace concern and her smile returned.

“The building? My father does not own the building. We lease this space.”

“I see,” NicAskill said. “Do you know who does own the building?”

“No, I’m afraid not. We pay the Golden Dragon Management Company. That’s who our lease is with.”

NicAskill took out the photocopy and showed it to the woman. “Is this the company?”

“I think so. My dad is the one who mainly does the books and pays the bills. I help him sometimes. The address looks familiar.”

“Thank you. You’ve been most helpful.” NicAskill turned and left. Petrie followed.

Out on the sidewalk, Petrie said, “I bet Golden Dragon manages everything here.”

“Maybe not the banks, or the hospital,” NicAskill replied. “But for these small shops?” She shook her head. “I won’t wager against you.”

“Let’s try a few more,” Petrie said, “might as well see if there’s any competition.”

The two walked to a small store selling traditional Chinese medicine. The owner leased the space from Golden Dragon. The smoke shop next door leased their space from Golden Dragon as well. The next block, Golden Dragon was replaced by Black Lotus Management Company.

“Both companies have headquarters here in Los Angeles,” NicAskill observed. She took out her phone and did a search. “Rather odd, Winifred, there’s no website for either company. No reviews either.”

“That is odd. Especially in this day and age.”

“They’re not on social media, either. At least not the main platforms.”

“Very odd.”

“It’s as if they don’t want to advertise their presence.”

“Maybe they don’t need to. If they only do business in Chinatown.”

NicAskill looked skeptical. “Maybe. Still doesn’t seem normal.” She looked around. “Why don’t we…”

“What?”

NicAskill pointed, and Petrie followed her finger. Roiling and churning gray and black clouds were rolling in from the east, blotting out the blue sky.

“What is going on?” Petrie said. “I didn’t think we were supposed to get a storm.”

“We aren’t. Sunny and no rain.”

“Doesn’t look like it now.”

“Sure doesn’t.”

They watched the clouds cover the sky and then begin to rotate.

“Oh, my God,” Petrie said. “A tornado. I was in one once. It was the most terrifying thing in my life.”

And then out of the swirling vortex a funnel of cloud dropped down. A moment later, the rotating cone withdrew, and the roiling clouds cleared leaving blue sky and filmy white clouds in their wake.

“What was that?” Petrie asked.

“I don’t know. But Jones and Hammerschmidt are up there.” NicAskill took out her phone and called Jones. “Jonesy, are you alright?”

Jones told her about his conversation with the priest and the destruction of the offices after they left the church.

“Something weird is going on here,” NicAskill said. “Maybe we need to meet with the boss.”

Jones concurred and said he’d call Mostyn.

NicAskill pocketed her phone. To Petrie, she said, “Some weird shit is going on. We’re going back to the hotel and confer with the boss.”

“What kind of weird shit?”

“That tornado?”

Petrie nodded.

“It punched a hole in the roof of the Chinese Catholic Church and destroyed two offices. No sign of the priest or the secretary. And the priest had just told Jones and Hammerschmidt a very interesting story about the guy who might be our masked man.”

Chapter 14

Dr Dotty Kemper’s temper was on a very short fuse. She had no complaints about the suite her captor had put her in. It was luxurious beyond anything she could dream of. The food they’d given her was exquisite. The bed was beyond comfortable and the silk sheets were decadence itself. There was a bookcase filled with books. The towels in the bathroom were the plushest and softest she’d ever felt. There were chairs and couches that were just like how she dreamed it would feel to sit on a cloud. Nor did she have a complaint about the beautiful silk cheongsam dresses hanging in the closet.

She looked around the spacious suite. It was magnificent, but she was a prisoner and that pissed her off.

She grabbed the breakfast tray and hurled it at the enormous window overlooking the city. Tray, plate, bowls, and leftover food hit the window and fell to the floor.

“Not even a goddamn scratch. Must be that transparent aluminum shit.”

She picked up one of the dining table chairs and hurled it at the locked door. Yesterday, she’d destroyed three pillows, four vases, kicked one guard in the crotch, and decked a second one before she found herself staring at two pistols pointed towards her head. That calmed her for awhile.

“I should’ve had Helene teach me how to dematerialize. Then I would’ve been out of here faster than they could say chop suey.”

She threw herself on a chaise longue, and after a moment found herself rubbing her hand across the luxurious fabric. 

“I’ve seen these in movies,” she said out loud. “Never knew people actually used them. Might have to get myself one. That is, if I ever get out of here.”

After a moment, she said, “And that’s beginning to look like a no go.”

She lay on her back, her knees up. “Houston, we have a problem. One lying sack of shit, who hides behind a mask.”

There was a knock on the door and it opened. Two men stepped in. Young Chinese men in black suits, white shirts, and black ties. A third man came in behind them, older, but also wearing a black suit, white shirt, and black tie.

Dotty stood and moved behind the chaise longue.

Following the three men, in walked the masked man. He was wearing the traditional men’s long gown in solid gold. The mask was also gold with a black beard and mustache painted on it. He walked with slow and deliberate steps. Behind him two young women carried a chair, which they set on the floor and in which the masked man sat. Dotty looked daggers at him.

The masked man spoke. His softly sibilant voice sounded ancient and ethereal. “I hear, Dr Kemper, that your accommodations do not please you.”

“They’re not mine.”

“That is true. The accommodations are not yours.” He paused, before continuing. “They could be yours, however.”

“They’re nice, but I prefer my own place. Thank you very much.”

A chuckle came from the mask. “Unfortunately for you, Dr Kemper, you will not be seeing your home again. However, I have a proposition for you. It is like those TV game shows. There are three doors. You pick a door and you get what is behind it. Unlike those shows, I will tell you what is behind each door.”

“Very generous of you.” Sarcasm dripped from Kemper’s words.

Once again a chuckle came from the mask. “Actually it is. Your first option is to marry my grandson. You will produce children. Lots of children.”

“I thought I was just supposed to be his plaything.”

“Nothing is static, Dr Kemper. I have a different plan now. So option number one for you is to marry my grandson.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You haven’t heard the other options.”

Dotty indicated with her hand he should continue.

“Option number two is that you will be the sacrifice which will enable me to open the gate allowing the Nameless One access to this dimension.”

Dotty shook her head. “Definitely not.”

“Very well. Behind our door number three is what I call the zuvembie option.”

“Which is?”

“Unlike the classic zuvembie, you won’t be a mindless creature that only lives to kill. However, you will definitely no longer be in control of your mind. I will control your mind. You will be my slave.”

“I don’t like that option either.”

The mask ignored her comment and continued. “You see, Dr Kemper, it has come to my attention people are looking for me. I do not fully understand who they are, or what resources they have available to them. What I do know is that they, and you, Dr Kemper, for I know you are one of them, pose a threat to me. To the hegemony of my empire.”

The masked man lifted his hands and shrugged. “Therefore, whoever you are, you all must be eliminated.”

“Why don’t you just pick my brain and then kill me?”

“I could. But then I would simply have information. I’d rather get full value from an asset such as yourself. So what is your decision, Dr Kemper? Door number one? Door number two? Or door number three?”

“I have to decide right now? Don’t I get some time to think this over?”

“Come now, Dr Kemper. From your perspective there really is only one choice. It is the first option. You keep your mind and you get to live in luxury for the rest of your life. However, if you want some time to think things over, so be it. You have five minutes. Start thinking.”

Dotty’s eyes went from the masked man to the the two women standing behind him, to the older man standing to one side, to the two men standing in front of where the masked man was sitting.

Five against one. Not very good odds. And then there was the Mask himself. He probably had a trick or two up his sleeves. She was not going to get out of this predicament alive. But she might die trying, and at this point that seemed to be her best option.

Door number four, she thought. And may the Force be with me.

Dotty walked around the chaise longue, placed the palms of her hands together, and bowed before the Mask. “I have made my decision.”

“Good. Let’s hear it.”

Dotty stood up and launched herself at the young man on her right. She gave him a round house kick to the head that sent him sprawling. She pivoted just in time to deliver a kick to the solar plexus of the other young man that saw him drop to the floor like a rock.

The young women charged. Dotty’s powerhouse punch sent the one woman flying.

Then there was a sharp pain and Dr Dotty Kemper’s world went black.

To Be Continued!

While waiting for the next installment, the entire Pierce Mostyn Paranormal series is available for your reading pleasure.

Do you hate cliffhangers? There’s none in this series. Each book stands by itself.

Do you think books are magic? That for just a little while you can be anywhere, doing anything? Then join Pierce Mostyn and experience some magic!

What people are saying about the Pierce Mostyn series:

“…a fast-paced story with lots of action, yet does not neglect the characters.”

“Hawes has a great time with this series and does a good job (too good) of leaving us wanting more.”

“This series is fun…”

“…a weird tale of adventure, humor, and horror.”

Get the Book!

Are engaging characters your thing? Join my VIP Readers and you’ll get the Pierce Mostyn novelette, “The Feeder” — available only to my VIP Readers! 

And you’ll be the first to know when the revised book version of The Medusa Ritual comes out!

The Medusa Ritual is copyright © 2019 by CW Hawes. All rights reserved.