Shadows of Redemption: Book of Death Series Book 1
Shadows of Redemption: Book of Death Series Book 1
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A new chapter in terror begins…
Paranormal investigator, Professor Marcus Mortlake, has faced darkness beyond imagination. He still bears the scars of his battles against supernatural evil. And he is still haunted by nightmares of the terror he has faced. But despite his weakened state, when a friend comes to him for help, Mortlake is ready for action once more…
His investigation into the eccentric behavior of a village priest quickly spirals into something far more dangerous. A dark presence lurks in the fog-shrouded hills of Norfolk. The local animals sense it. Even the villagers can detect it in the air. And Mortlake is certain that this is only the beginning.
Sinister voices chant in the darkness. A blight spoils crops on the outskirts of town. Something is awakening beneath the sleepy village streets. A dark being not seen since primordial times. An evil presence unlike anything Mortlake has faced before.
A being that will sacrifice the innocent souls of children to gain the power it desperately craves.
Unless Mortlake can stop it in time…
Dick Barton swore at his phone. He’d been trying to get a hold of Mitch for an hour, but now he’d finally given up. The teenager had replied to his first call with some bizarre story about a miracle. Barton, naturally skeptical, had scoffed at the idea and told Mitch to get to work. But instead, the apprentice had insisted he had to see the vicar and had hung up.
“Bloody idiot,” Barton muttered, shoving his phone into the back pocket of his overalls. “Does he want to keep his job or not?”
Barton would have to feed the pigs himself. At least his aches and pains weren’t so apparent on this fine morning. In fact, his troublesome back and knees hadn’t bothered him much in a couple of days. This ought to have been a cause of pleasure. But so many unnerving things had happened lately that Barton took no joy in his improved health.
He started heaving sacks and buckets from the old Land Rover and mixed the pig feed. The animals were, once more, clustered at the far end of the field. Before the strangeness crept into the neighborhood, the animals would have crowded greedily up against the gate, sniffing and grunting. Now it seemed they were indifferent to their first meal of the day. They were definitely losing weight, failing to eat much of what Barton put in front of them. At this rate, they would fetch a poor price on the market.
“Come on, you buggers,” he called as he opened the gate, then carried the first feed buckets over to the troughs. “It’s good and tasty, and it’s free.”
A couple of the bigger animals detached themselves from the group. They seemed hesitant. Barton picked up a stick and rattled it against the feed troughs. Heads turned, and the herd started to move toward him. Then the sound came again, that unearthly noise that defied Barton’s understanding.
The pigs started grunting more loudly. Barton detected fear and anger. A great boar snapped at a younger male, which emitted a piercing squeal. The aggressor had taken a bloody chunk of flesh out of the victim’s flank. Other pigs, even the usually sedate among them, began to rush around, biting and squealing.
“Stop that now!” he shouted. “Stop that, you silly buggers!”
Then the beauty of the sound overwhelmed Barton, and the sounds of swinish mayhem receded. He stood, rapt in wonder, all cares driven from his mind. Once more, he felt the warm, comforting memories of his boyhood, the sense of safety, and the joys of old-time Christmases and birthday treats.
I shouldn’t just stand here like a lummox. I should do something.
The tiny voice was almost drowned out by the wonderful noise. He couldn’t move. He just stood there, enraptured. He was vaguely aware of movement around him, then came the impact that knocked him reeling into the glutinous mud.
The sound began to fade as Barton looked up to see the gaping mouths of pigs, their jaws bloody, descending upon him. He screamed, thrashed, and tried to get up. But the animals were frantic, stampeding and biting, and the old man stood no chance.
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