I’m trying my first promotion for Veteran’s Day!
Evie Jones and the Crazy Exes is free for today and tomorrow. So if you follow me and have been considering checking out my stuff, now’s a great time to do it 🙂
And she thought her ex was evil…
Witch Evie Jones would rather drown her sorrows than babysit the weekend her ex is getting married, but she promised her friend she’d help. The night goes from bad to worse when a zombie crashes the party and TV bingewatching turns to terror. Now she’s in for the fight of both hers and her charge’s lives.
“Merow.” Missy ran straight at me and I stumbled back into the wall. She hit the throw rug a foot from me, sending it sliding two feet, used it to get traction, and turned to shoot back into the living room.
I sagged against the wall, heart pounding. “Your cat is a menace.” I sighed. “If he’s ready to settle down and get married and all that, why not me?” I was pathetic!
“And you get to think that. You get to be upset.” Faye paused. “We’ve got to go. Watch TV, study, have a glass of wine. Relax. Okay?”
Scratch, scratch, scratchscratchscratch, came from the front door, making me cringe. Bad kitty!
“Okay.” We said bye and I upped the TV volume, sat on the couch and grabbed the book on top of the pile of blue Bar Exam study books I’d brought.
“I could curse him.” I glanced down at my book, tapping my finger on the pages. “Impotence? That’s a classic. A curse would constitute crazy.”
Scratch, scratch, scratchscratchscratchscratch.
I jumped off the couch. “So does that, Missy.” I stomped to the door. “You have a cat door! You can get in.” I threw the deadbolt and yanked the door open. “Crazy fluff-”
“Argggg.” The man outside lunged at me, swinging a meaty fist in haymaker that’d leave me a pumpkin if it landed. I jumped back on pure instinct, bumping into the couch’s arm before I even registered there was a person there. I scrambled to the side and back.
Wet dirt came off him like cologne and something like meat spoiling in the fridge. Cold, rotting, but not growing friends yet. I recognized the smell before my eyes caught up and transferred what I was looking at.
He was sallow under the heavy makeup and his black wool suit hung loose on him. Like he’d lost weight before he died. And he was most certainly dead.
Zombie, flashed through my head as I shook it. Now that was crazy. There weren’t vampires, werewolves, or freaking zombies! Except… zombies weren’t originally stories made up to scare children. They were based in real voodoo. Not my religion, but, but… possible. There were golems, demons and ghosts, so why not zombies?
We’d know if there were ways to make zombies, right? The Council would’ve told us.
He lunged at me again, teeth bared and fists raised and I screamed, pulling my tiny gun from my hip and pointing it towards him.