Exciting news! Dark Visions has already spent a few days at #1 on Amazon for New Releases in Horror Anthologies. It is an honor to share pages and space with the other authors in this book. Each one of us has our own style and our own way of weaving words, but we all have the love of writing creatively in common. If you are looking for a gripping read, please check this anthology out. (Link Below.) In the meantime, I'm going to share a teaser with you from one of my favorite authors who is also featured in the Dark Visions anthology.
As part of the Dark Visions blog tour, I get the pleasure of sharing an excerpt from one of two short stories written by Anne Marie Andrus, which can be found in this horror-filled anthology.
Anne Marie is one of 27 authors who've written imaginative, spooky stories for Dark Visions, and she also happens to be one of my favorite authors. To my great excitement, I had the unique pleasure of getting a sneak peak at her upcoming release, Raimond. From page to page, her words weaved a thrilling tale, and today, I cannot be more thrilled to get this chance to share a snippet of her words here.
Again, this short story, Where the Power Hides, can be found in the anthology Dark Visions among 34 other imaginative tales.
Where The Power Hides
The narrow, cobblestone streets of the French Quarter didn’t allow the limousine to invade their labyrinth without a vicious struggle. The engine roared over and over, until an invisible barrier split and the ghostly grey car landed on Rue Chartres with a screech. Steering wide around tight corners and slowing every time a pack of vibrant revelers danced in front of the grill, glossy tires finally crunched to a stop in a lot on the neighborhood's Esplanade border.
"Are you sure this is right?" Sorcha clicked the map icon on her phone and pounded on a control button until smoked glass disappeared into the door. "I said I missed the Quarter, but actually being here makes me—"
“Ill? For years, not a soul on earth could pry you out of this district.” Draven tossed back his blond hair and frowned at a handwritten note. "Ivori is waiting in the lobby of Le...I don’t know, some sordid hotel."
“Feels lonely.” Sorcha gazed down the crooked alley at snapshots of a stray parade. “Or empty? Might just be me.”
“It’s positively hollow.” Draven tossed the crumpled paper to the only other being in the car. "Have I deciphered that scribble correctly, Lock?"
"Indeed you have, Your Highness." Lock kicked the door open and grabbed for Sorcha’s hand. "Leave that dreadful device here."
"It's brand new." Sorcha pulled her phone back from Lock, just to have it plucked away again. "Seriously, Draven?"
“Doesn’t the incessant social connection exhaust you?” Draven flung it to the farthest corner of the car. "I prefer ravens and wax-sealed parchment. Ominous, yet classy.”
"Nothing feels like those old days, except the weather." Sorcha peeled off her sweater and glared into the dark limousine at the blinking phone. “But, what if?”
"Anyone you’re looking for…" Lock tugged her across the gravel lot. "Has no need for that contraption."
Overhead, the lazy scrape of shutters drifting in soggy air escalated to a rhythmic pulse of wood striking brick.
Sorcha shuffled her feet and gawked into the center of an overgrown patio. “Who paints a pool icky green?”
“Not paint.” Draven gagged into his sleeve and shoved her into the building. “Oh, splendid. Look who we found.”
In the middle of a checkerboard tile floor, Ivori drummed her fingers on the concierge’s desk. Without a word, she spun and motioned them through a hidden door.
“I hate tunnels.” Sorcha swept the hair off her neck and twisted it into a loose knot. “It’s a sauna down here.”
"When you mentioned an Equinox reunion, Ivori, I assumed you meant something spectacular." Draven touched the muddy wall and cringed. “Or at least, sanitary.”
“Nights of grand balls and one-of-a-kind dresses are history.” Ivori forged into the pitch black. “Y’all took your sweet time getting here.”
“We were in opposite corners of the earth.” Lock scowled as Ivori struck a match and lit her torch. "I was hoping for an enchanted courtyard."
"Me." Sorcha raised her finger. “The cathedral bell tower.”
"I’ve planned something way better." Ivori stopped so short, everyone crashed into her back. "None of your supernatural eyes saw the massive iron door?” She pulled chalk from her pocket and wrote on the rusty surface, waiting for each letter to disappear before she scripted the next. When the jumble was finished, the barricade creaked open.
Draven grunted. “Marginally impressive.”
“The reigning king, a shifter prince and our own duchess.” Ivori deliberately pointed at Draven, Lock and Sorcha, in order. “All that royalty and not one of you can crack a smile?”
“We’re here because people we love are—” Sorcha lunged for Ivori’s neck.
“Easy.” Lock caught her arm. “She’s messing with you.”
“She has a damn personality disorder.” Sorcha’s hands shook like leaves in a hurricane. “Ivori, my husband has been missing since our first anniversary!”
“I apologize. And, if you repeat that to anyone, I’ll turn you fools into toads.” Ivori strutted past and snapped her fingers. “Step lively, my undead allies.”
