Author: Angie

His Magic Touch by Debby Grahl Genre: Paranormal Romance

The night before Jared Dupre’s wedding, a specter warns him the demonic witch, Adam Montief, has kidnapped his brother in a centuries-old vendetta unknown to Jared. A powerful witch himself, Jared tracks Adam from New Orleans to a remote island off the coast of Connecticut, where he’s given no choice. He must rescue his brother and break his engagement to Kendra O’Connell, or they both die. After complying, Jared engages in a sword fight and believes he has vanquished his foe, but when he returns to New Orleans, he finds evil still threatens all he loves. Kendra, not knowing why Jared broke their engagement, devastated, finds solace in another’s arms. With help from an ancestor’s spirit, can Jared defeat the dark magic descending over the Big Easy while winning back the woman he loves? Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo

Debby Grahl lives on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina, with her husband, David. Besides writing, she enjoys biking, walking on the beach and a glass of wine at sunset. Her favorite places to visit are New Orleans, New York City, Captiva Island in Florida, the Cotswolds of England, and her home state of Michigan. She is a history buff who also enjoys reading murder mysteries, time travel, and, of course, romance. Visually impaired since childhood by Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP), she uses screen-reading software to research and write her books. Her first published book, The Silver Crescent, won the Paranormal Romance Guild Reviewers’ Choice award. Her second book, Rue Toulouse, a contemporary romance set in New Orleans, was a finalist in the National Excellence in Romantic Fiction Award and was selected as a May, 2016, ‘local read’ by Hilton Head Monthly. Decorated to Death is a holiday mystery cozy. She also has stories in three anthologies, The Haunted West, Never Fear/Christmas Terrors; and Ebb and Flow from the local Island Writers’ Network. Debby was featured in the January, 2016, Hilton Head Monthly article ‘Intriguing People of the Lowcountry’. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Florida Romance Writers, and First Coast Romance Writers. Her latest book, His Magic Touch, was released December 5, 2018, by Wild Rose Press. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

In the stifling heat, Angelique Montief flicked her wrist and set the bamboo ceiling
fan spinning. Kneeling on a woven mat with sweat coating her body, she lifted a
small wooden brass-bound casket from the bottom of a large trunk, inserted a gold
key, and opened the lid. Inside two objects lay wrapped in thick cloth. She
carefully unwrapped the smaller bundle to reveal a pentagonal mirror, a gift
handed down to her by her grandmother, its ancient oak frame carved with tiny
pentacles. She glanced over her shoulder at her locked bedroom door, then
stared into the mirror and whispered, “Show him to me.”
When the glass remained blank, fear clutched at her chest. Again, she said the
words, and the image of a plantation house engulfed in flames appeared. “No,
please, he can’t be dead.” Tears blurred her vision. The fiery image changed to
reveal a human form lying beneath flowering bougainvillea.
Hope rising, Angelique peered closer.
“Show me his face.”
She saw his indigo blue eyes blink open.
“I’m coming, my love.”
He couldn’t hear her, but she hoped in his heart that he knew she would find a
way to get to him.
As the smoke in the room thickened, she knew her time was running out. She
rewrapped the mirror and placed it into the smaller casket among cloth bags of
herbs and potion-filled vials. Relocking the lid, she hung the key on a chain around
her neck, dropped a jeweled dagger into her pocket, and tucked the casket under
her arm.
Crouched beneath the smoke, she considered the quickest way to reach her son
and escape.
Augustus had locked her in, placing what he thought would be an impenetrable
shield across both doors. Angelique coughed, choked by the smoke. Her
husband’s biggest mistake was underestimating her power.

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The Witch of the Prophecy The Prophecy Trilogy Book 1 by Victoria Jayne Genre: Paranormal Romance

The catastrophic prophecy is in motion, and Divina’s choice between her vampire ex-boyfriend and the wolf shifter she’s just met will impact all supernatural kind.. Divina’s had it with the prophecy. Divina’s not convinced the prophecy is about her. Her manipulative vampire ex-boyfriend, Rori, is reluctant to give up his love for her to pursue the throne. Meanwhile, the wolf shifter meant to claim Divina doesn’t believe in the prophecy. However, he does believe Divina is his mate. With the pressures of the prophecy and the most powerful coven in the present-day United States, Divina is left to choose between complying with the prophecy and mating with Aric—or leaving it all behind to allow the catastrophic possibility of supernatural beings getting exposed to humans.The Witch of the Prophecy is the first in a Trilogy. Combining the angst of a love triangle with the drama of the supernatural and a splash of heated passion takes the reader on an exciting journey. The Witch of the Prophecy is perfect for fans of Charlaine Harris, L.J. Smith, and Stephenie Meyer. Sexy and enthralling, this is a paranormal romance author you need in your life! – Amazon Reviewer ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ You will enjoy this frolic into fantasy and it will leave you craving for the next installment of this sweet and sexy trilogy. – Amazon Reviewer ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ I finished the book in just under a day! As soon as I started reading, there was no way I could put it down. – Goodreads Reviewer ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ Goodreads * Amazon

The Wolf of the Prophecy The Prophecy Trilogy Book 2

Who knew that one magical mistake would carry such dire consequences? When Divina goes missing after Aric claimed her, the shifter has to call on his pack to find her before his inner wolf goes insane. Meanwhile, following the beat of his vampire heart, Rori searches for her hoping to make amends. He wants to convince her it’ll be different this time, and that she’s his. But first, he has to find her. Divina just wants space to practice her spells, far away from Rori, Aric, and the prophecy that brought them together, which they just can’t seem to shake. But when she makes a mistake and unleashes chaos, she has to turn to them for help in cleaning up her mess. Rori and Aric must put aside their rivalry and work together to protect the woman they love or else lose everything they hold dear. The Wolf of the Prophecy is the sequel to The Witch of the Prophecy and is the second book in the trilogy. It’s is perfect for fans of Charlaine Harris, L.J. Smith, and Stephenie Meyer. Goodreads * Amazon

Growing up on the Jersey Shore, Victoria was an insatiable reader. She adored getting lost in the worlds others created for her. During her early teen years, she enjoyed the works of R.L. Stein and S.E. Hinton. As she got older, she drifted into the worlds provided for her by Anne Rice, Suzanne Wright, J.D. Tyler, Joanna Wylde, Cherise Sinclair, Dianne Duvall, and Elisabeth Naughton, to name a few. These writers spawned her love affair with both the romance genre and the world of the supernatural. Victoria started writing as a hobby while still in high school. Now her days are spent writing, enjoying time with her husband, and her two children. She still lives in New Jersey. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America and New Jersey Romance Writers. Victoria is a New Jersey Devils Hockey fan, an avid SecondLife Roleplayer, and a Netflix binge watcher. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Out in the middle of nowhere, with no clothes, and smelling the equivalent of filet
mignon, his wolf had set him up well. Torn between the desire to investigate the fragrance, and
maintaining human societal norms of modesty, Aric lingered under the cover of bushes and trees.
CRACK!
Metaphorical thunderbolts splintered before his eyes. Pain shot through his skull as he
flew forward bracing himself on all fours. Aric’s hand reached to the back of his head
protectively and to check for bleeding.
“What the fuck!?” he rumbled in confusion.
“Who are you?” a feminine voice demanded.
Lifting his chest, getting to his knees, Aric turned toward the sound of crunching leaves
beneath shuffling feet. Blinking a few times did nothing to cure his double vision. He assumed
he had a concussion. If he had been human, he’d be unconscious. The pain in his head throbbed
while Aric struggled to see properly.
“W-wh-why are you naked?” the female voice questioned him.
Rising to his feet, Aric shifted his position, in an attempt to both hide the chubby semi-
erection and to offer some modesty. It must have been interpreted as a sign of aggression.
Aric heard the whoosh and put his arm up to block the giant branch the female wielded as
a weapon. The vibration of pain ricocheted up his forearm when it collided with the impromptu
weapon. Aric howled and his eyes watered.

Aric twisted his wrist, wrapped his fingers around the branch, and yanked. It came loose
from her hands quickly. He tossed the stick away and thanked his supernatural genes and the
strength given to him by his wolf, who, oddly, pranced about within him with elation rather than
recognizing the aggression the woman showed toward them.
“Wha—” she gasped.
Still unable to see her clearly, the blurry female form stepped back from him. Aric
wobbled slightly and fell to his knees again for stability.
Once his vision slowly returned to normal, and in the glow of the moon, he gasped when
he finally laid focused eyes on her visage. Her high cheekbones, plump lips, golden skin tone
stunned him. His mouth fell open. The mass of dark waves pulled into a messy pony shimmered
in the moonlight giving her a halo effect. Aric felt as if he knelt at the feet of a goddess.
She wore an extremely large, faded, hooded sweatshirt and tight jeans. Aric lifted himself
to a standing position on shaky knees. He stood several inches over her at his full height. His
wolf howled within him while he fought the wolf’s urge to grab the woman. It did nothing to
ease the pounding pain in his head from her attack.
“You’re magnificent,” he murmured.
The unknown female took another step away from him.
“Uh, thanks?” she said.
Her pale blue eyes darted left and right, as though she searched for an escape route.

The throbbing pain in the back of his head dulled as he studied her. He absentmindedly
raised a hand and rubbed at the place where she had struck him. The semi was now a full-on
raging erection and proudly protruded from his pelvis as if to salute her.
Aric’s face heated when her eyes dipped to it. Her cheeks reddened. She held a hand over
her mouth.
“Oh my God!” she gasped.
Her expression reflected panic. She bent her knees prepared to run. Her eyes sought the
best escape route.
“No. Don’t,” Aric protested, surprising himself.
She paused. The female stared at him, bewildered.
He brought both his hands over his crotch. “Sorry.”
“Why are you naked?” she demanded a second time.
“Uh,” Aric stalled. For some reason, he didn’t think telling her he had just shifted from
wolf to human form would be a good idea. Humans tended to freak out when confronted with
creatures they thought were mythical. Plus, there was the whole death thing, if the council found
out about a supernatural being outing himself to humans. They took that shit super serious. Aric
liked his life. He liked it even more, having met this female.

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Bobby Ether and the Jade Academy by R. Scott Boyer Genre: YA Fantasy Adventure

“Bobby Ether and the Jade Academy is a thrilling action-packed adventure you never want to end.” — IndieReader 4.5 stars When Bobby Ether is abducted and brought to the secluded Jade Academy in Tibet, monks teach him and other special students how to tap into their Anima—the universal energy that connects all living things. But the headmistress of the academy is secretly testing each student, looking for genetic triggers that can be exploited to create a new breed of humans born with metaphysical powers and abilities. As his abilities increase, Bobby is thrust into a cesspool of conspiracy, lies, and betrayal. A jade amulet left by his clairvoyant grandfather may provide answers, but what exactly is his family’s connection to this mysterious place? Can Bobby master his talents and uncover the truth in time to avoid the schemes? If not, his fate—and the fate of all the students—may be sealed. Goodreads * Amazon

R. Scott Boyer graduated from the Haas School of Business at UC Berkeley in 1996. In 2008, he became fascinated with the idea of blending young adult fantasy with new-age fiction. While maintaining a full-time job, he couldn’t help but envision the kind of book he wanted to read. This exploration led to the creation of the Bobby Ether YA fantasy series, which combines spiritual elements with ancient myths and legends to create fun, fast-paced stories tailored for young adults but suited for adventure lovers of all ages. Through his writing, Scott likes to explore various spiritual and metaphysical themes, including karma, serendipity, communion with nature, and the interconnectedness of all living things. In his free time, Scott likes to play basketball and tennis, as well as bike with his rescue dog, Patch. Over the years, Scott has been involved with a number of volunteer youth organizations, including United In Harmony, YMCA summer and winter camps, various basketball programs, and C5LA. Raised in Santa Monica, California, Scott still resides in the Los Angeles area close to his family. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

The earthquake that woke Bobby Ether from his nightmare wasn’t a typical Los Angeles tremor. Growing
up in the suburbs of the San Fernando Valley, Bobby had experienced enough quakes to know most of
them lasted only a few seconds— over by the time you realized they were happening. Not this one.
The entire room shook as Bobby sat upright in bed and rubbed his eyes. The windows rattled and the
freestanding dresser in the corner bounced up and down. In a stupor, the long-legged sixteen-year-old
stumbled out of bed and headed for his desk to climb underneath.
Nausea washed over him as the floor heaved. Still reliving the nightmare from moments before he awoke,
Bobby scurried under his desk before the rumbling finally subsided. Climbing out slowly, he moved to
the window, where a foot-long crack had appeared in the drywall below the sill.
It was almost midnight. The next-door neighbor’s house was quiet and dark: no lights or alarms. The
water in their backyard swimming pool stood placid.
What the heck?
Bobby brushed locks of wavy blond hair off his forehead, exposing beads of cold sweat. Racing
downstairs, he turned on the television in the den and flipped through the channels, but there was no news
about a quake. It was only a dream, he told himself. The earthquake, the nightmare, none of it was real.
The phone rang and Bobby jumped. Wiping his suddenly clammy hands on his pajamas, he headed across
the dining room to the phone in the kitchen and snatched the receiver off the hook.
“Hello?” he said.
The female voice was cold and mechanical. “Is this Bobby Ether?”
“Who is this?”
“This is Saint Michelle’s hospital. I’m calling from the emergency center.”
Bobby felt the blood drain from his face.
“Hello, are you there?” asked the woman from the hospital.
Bobby’s mouth had turned bone dry.
“We need you to come to the hospital right away,” said the woman. “There’s been an accident.”
The phone slipped from Bobby’s hand, nearly falling to the floor before he caught it and hauled it back
up.
The voice on the other end was still speaking. “Sir? Are you still there?”
Bobby closed his eyes as tears pooled once again. In his mind, he saw the accident exactly as it had been
in his nightmare. His parents were in his father’s SUV, driving home from their Wednesday “date night”
dinner and a movie. As they crossed the intersection at Chapel and La Grange, a truck on their right ran a
red light and crashed into them.
“Was it a man with long hair?” asked Bobby. “In an old pickup?”
After a long pause, the woman said, “I’m afraid I can’t discuss other patients’ information.”
It didn’t matter. Bobby already knew the answer. The longhaired man had been drinking and didn’t react
in time to the changing light. His truck had barreled through the intersection and T-boned his father’s
Explorer just behind the passenger seat occupied by his mother.
The two vehicles had careened off in opposite directions. The pickup smashed through the window of a
nearby delicatessen. The Explorer slid across oncoming traffic before slamming headfirst into a lamp
post.
“You should check on the other driver,” said Bobby flatly.
“He’s hurt pretty bad too.”
“Sir, do you have someone who can bring you here?”
There was another long silence as Bobby shook his head.
“Sir, I can send someone to pick you up. Can you give me your address, please?”
Without responding, Bobby set the phone down and headed for his mom’s Prius parked on the street.
Grabbing her keys off of the console table, he flung open the front door and froze.
A woman stood in the doorway, arm extended to knock.
Somewhere in her fifties, she looked like she could have been a supermodel in her younger years—tall
and slender, with high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. Dressed all in white, she wore an elegantly
tailored dress suit with a golden silk scarf to match her hair.
Bobby took a step back and the woman stepped forward, towering over him in four-inch Prada heels.
“Just who I was looking for,” she exclaimed.
Bobby took another involuntary step back, opening space for the woman to cross the threshold. She did
so, closing the door quickly behind her.
“Hello, Bobby.”

Bobby retreated across the foyer to the base of the stairs.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Are you from the hospital?”
Even as he asked the question, Bobby knew the answer.
He’d only just hung up with the hospital seconds ago. Besides, he hadn’t given them his address.
The woman scanned the room, seemingly memorizing every detail of the small but tidy three-bedroom
house. Bobby had never been ashamed of his home before, but something about this woman’s gaze made
him wish the house were nicer.
“Well, this place is . . . cozy,” she said finally. “Not quite what I pictured for Jeremiah’s family, but I
suppose to each his own.”
The mention of his grandfather caught Bobby by surprise. He relaxed his grip on the car keys and leaned
against the banister, trying to act casual as he asked, “How do you know my grandfather?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed for a split second, then she extended her arm. “My name is Cassandra,” she
said, offering her hand stiffly, like a soldier forced to salute. “Your grandfather and I go way back.”
“But how do you—” began Bobby.
Before he finished, his stomach let loose a tremendous growl. Bobby’s insides turned queasy and his
knees buckled. The keys slipped from his hand and hit the hardwood floor with a clank. Cassandra caught
Bobby under the arms and hoisted him back up before he followed the keys to the ground.
“Well, I can see I got here none too soon,” she said with a heavy sigh. For an older woman, she was
surprisingly strong.
“Come on, let’s get you to the kitchen.”
Bobby lacked the strength to protest. Arms flopping at his sides, feet dragging, he let her escort him
across the dining room to the narrow kitchen that ran down the left side of the house.
Depositing Bobby unceremoniously at the kitchen table,
Cassandra rifled through the refrigerator. Bobby leaned over the tabletop, gripping his stomach as he
fought to keep down his late-night snack of Hawaiian pizza and chicken wings.
Cassandra pulled something out of her pocket and stuffed it into the blender on the Formica countertop.
Adding an assortment of vegetables and juice from the fridge, she ran the machine and poured the
contents into a glass.
“Drink this,” she said, shoving the cup into his hands.
Bobby took a deep breath and pulled himself upright.
“What’s in it?”
“It’ll help you recover from your anima event,” said Cassandra.
Bobby sniffed and thrust the cup out to arm’s length. It smelled like cat urine mixed with moldy cheese.
“My what-awhat?”
Cassandra pushed the cup toward his face. “Drink!”
Something about her words echoed in his head like a siren’s song. Before he knew it, he’d drained the
contents. Cassandra leaned against the counter, watching him with a slight smile as he gagged from the
aftertaste.
When he could speak, Bobby said, “How did you—”
“I’ll explain later,” said Cassandra. “Right now, we need to leave.”
Still wobbly but feeling stronger by the second, Bobby rose.
“Right now, I need to get to the hospital.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” said Cassandra. “It’s the first place they’ll look.”
Bobby opened his mouth to protest. Then the doorbell rang.
“Just as I feared.” Cassandra pushed Bobby toward the dining room. “Quickly, go pack a bag! I’ll buy us
some time, but you must hurry.”
Bobby walked to the front window and peered through the blinds. Two men stood on the porch directly
below the lamp. One was reed thin, with oily, slicked-back hair and pockmarked cheeks. The other was
pudgy, with a receding hairline, heavy jowls, and cruel eyes that reminded Bobby of a hyena. On the
curb behind them, men in black uniforms piled out of a line of black SUVs glimmering under the
incandescent street lamps.
“What’s with the rejects from Saturday Night Fever?” asked Bobby, noting the pastel suits, huge lapels,
and bell-bottom pants of the two men on the porch.
Cassandra swept past Bobby and peeked between the slates.
“Just my luck,” she grumbled. “Bobby, get upstairs and get your things. I have a plan, but you must
hurry.”
Bobby drifted to the staircase and stopped with one hand on the banister.

Cassandra touched his arm. “Go on,” she said. “I’ll take care of this.”
He searched her face for a long moment. Then he rushed upstairs and began to pack.
As Bobby hurriedly threw clothes into his bag, he heard the front door open and Cassandra’s voice. It was
one of the last things he expected.
“Hello, Simpkins. Hayward,” she said. “What brings you by this evening?”
“Cassandra! What a surprise,” the man said.
“That much is obvious from the blank look on your face,”
said Cassandra. “Be a dear and close your mouth, won’t you, Hayward? I can feel my hair starting to
frizz.”
Cassandra stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
Bobby set down his bag and moved to the top of the stairs. The voices were muffled, but through the
transom window above the front door, he could make out the speakers’ faces and piece together what they
were saying.
“You had best watch your tone,” said Hayward, the fat man with the cruel eyes.
“And explain what you’re doing here,” said Simpkins, the skinny one. “Do we have a situation?”
“Relax,” said Cassandra. “The brass just thought it might be best for me to assist.”
“What are you gonna do?” asked Hayward. “Read the kid a bedtime story?”
Cassandra’s response sounded well-rehearsed, just like her answers to Bobby. “This kid has been off the
grid until now. Which means you have no idea what he’s capable of.”
Hayward scoffed. “He’s one lousy kid. I could handle this entire job by myself.”
“We didn’t receive any instructions about you assisting,” said Simpkins. “I think it’s best we handle this
on our own.”
“You felt the quake, right?” said Cassandra. “Are you sure you want to be on his bad side if he
experiences another anima event?”
Bobby paused. There was that phrase again—anima event.
“We got the hospital report,” said Hayward. “We know exactly what triggered him.”
“But you don’t know what else might—”
“Enough small talk,” said Simpkins. “Where’s the boy, Cassandra?”
“He’s inside, but he’s still pretty shaken up. The hospital called—he knows his dream was real.”
“Then we should go in and comfort him,” Hayward chuckled.
The doorknob jiggled.
Cassandra held her ground. “Remember what happened with the Thompson kid?” she said coolly. “How
was the recovery process? Not too painful, I hope.”
“Kiss my—” said Hayward. Simpkins cut him off.
“Have it your way, Cassandra,” said Simpkins. “Go back inside and get the kid. Hayward, get back to the
truck and radio this in. Find out why we weren’t informed that Miss Congeniality here was called in to
assist.”
Bobby didn’t wait to hear anymore. Shoving the remaining clothes he’d pulled out into his bag, he cast a
final glance around the room for anything else worth taking. He paused at an old photo on the corner of
his desk. It was a picture of him, his parents, and his grandfather Jeremiah at the beach during one of
Grandpa’s rare visits. Bobby still remembered that day. Grandpa had been animated and intense that
afternoon, warning Bobby about all sorts of things that made no sense— cautioning him to keep away
from wild animals and to always carry a flashlight. Bizarre as he was, it had been nice to see the old man.
Bobby lifted the picture and the corner caught on something. Pulling harder, he exposed a tarnished silver
necklace with a stone pendant shaped like a flower. He remembered it vaguely, a gift from Grandpa,
given to him the day the photo was taken. Far too feminine for a teenage boy, it had sat on Bobby’s desk
for years, buried beneath piles of comic books and video games. On impulse, Bobby stuffed both the
picture and the pendant into his pocket and headed for the window. He had one foot
over the windowsill when the door creaked open behind him. “I hope you weren’t planning on leaving
without me,” said Cassandra.
Bobby froze, half in, half out of the window. “You lied to me,” he said. “You know those guys down
there. And now you’re going to turn me over to them.”
“I didn’t lie to you; I lied to them to buy us some time.”
Bobby grimaced. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me about lying to them?”
“Because I am going to help you escape.”
Bobby swung his other leg out over the sill. “Thanks, but I’ve got that covered.”
“Suit yourself,” said Cassandra. “But you should know they’ll see you from the curb.” Bobby shot a quick

glance outside. Six men, each wearing dark military garb, stood by the vans less than fifty feet away.
“Those are Core agents, sent to bring you in,” said Cassandra. She retreated to the door. “I’m headed out
the back. You can either come with me, or take your chances out the window.”
Bobby balanced on the sill, staring into the distance. “What the heck is a Core agent? And what’s an
anima event?”
The men by the vans broke off into teams. Two of them headed down either side of the house. At least
two more agents remained by the curb.
Cassandra disappeared down the steps. With a sigh, Bobby climbed back into his bedroom, grabbed his
duffle bag, and hurried after her.
On tiptoes, they crept through the house to the back porch, located off the pantry, beyond the kitchen.
Cassandra eased the door open with Bobby at her hip. The backyard was dark with no lights on except a
single bulb by the garage entrance. Gravel crunched off to their left as the Core agents crept up the
driveway.
“They’re coming!” Bobby whispered to Cassandra. She held a finger to her lips and pointed through the
darkness to the barely visible ivy-covered fence bordering the back alley.
From the front of the house, Simpkins shouted, “Hey, Cassandra! HQ has no info about an assist. Open up
now or we’re coming in.” Bobby started across the lawn, but Cassandra grabbed his shoulder. A few
seconds later, a loud clash of shattered hinges and splintered wood sounded as the front door was smashed
in.
Cassandra threw open the back door. “Go now!” she yelled.
With his duffle bag bouncing on his shoulders, Bobby raced to the back fence. Encumbered as he was, he
got there far ahead of Cassandra, who struggled with her high heels on the thick grass.
Bobby reached the back gate and stared in horror. A heavy chain wrapped around the latch, secured by a
thick padlock. Behind him, light flickered in the gap between the garage and the corner of the house as
the Core agents continued up the driveway. No going back for the key.
Bobby raced along the back fence, trampling through the vegetable garden until he found a spot not
covered in ivy. A light flashed in his direction. A split second later, Simpkins shouted and broke into a
sprint across the lawn.
“Stop! . . . Come back here!”
Bobby tossed his duffle bag over the fence and climbed.
Meanwhile, Cassandra reached the fence and paused at the gate.
“What are you doing?” he yelled. “Climb!”
Instead, Cassandra grasped the hefty padlock in both hands as Bobby reached the top of the fence.
Dropping to the ground on the far side, Bobby took a moment to gather his bag. When he straightened up,
Cassandra stood next to him, the gate slightly ajar. She pushed the gate shut, replaced the chain, and
clicked the padlock back into place.
Bobby froze. “Hey, that gate was locked! How did you—?”
Cassandra brushed his question aside with a wave. “No time for that. We need to leave, now!”
One house down, a white convertible Porsche sat in the middle of the alley. Cassandra slid into the
driver’s seat and started the engine. Behind them, the back fence rattled as their pursuers reached the wall
and began to climb. Bobby threw his bag in the back of the Porsche and leapt over the door into his seat.
Cassandra winced at the dark smudges his sneakers left on the leather upholstery. She revved the engine,
sending up a deafening roar as two agents dropped into the alley.
The one in front pulled a pistol. “Stop!” he yelled.
Cassandra slammed the Porsche into gear, rocketing down the narrow backstreet at breakneck speed.
There was a loud crack as a bullet lodged in the back bumper.
Cassandra tossed her middle finger in the air. “You’ll pay for that!”
Bobby held his breath until they’d reached the end of the block and turned the corner. He leaned back in
his seat and took a deep breath as the men disappeared behind him, ditched like a forgotten dream in the
dawn of a new day.

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