Never Look Back (Paranormal Huntress Series Book 1) Read online

  Paranormal Huntress Series #1

  Never Look Back

  By W.J. May

  Copyright 2017 by W.J. May

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright 2017 by W.J. May

  Cover design by: Book Cover by Design

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

  Paranormal Huntress Series

  Never Look Back

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  Coven Master

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  Alpha’s Permission

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  NEVER LOOK BACK - Blurb:

  The wise learn many things from their enemies.

  My name’s Atlanta Skolar, and I’m a huntress. No, not the vampire-slaying type, or like the ever-brooding Winchester brothers from Supernatural. I live a relatively normal life—during the day at least. I go to school, have friends, and try my best to survive Uncle James’ horrendous cooking.

  However, the nights in the city of Calen are not always calm. There’s a thin veil between our world and the world of monsters, the good and the bad. I'm one of the few who stands between the two. With the help of my uncle, who’s taken me in since my parents’ deaths, I spend the nights making sure the balance is maintained and that each side keeps to their respective places.

  At least, that was until something rattled the cages and everything hit the fan. There’s a new evil in town, an evil that’s been here before, and it may be responsible for my parents’ deaths. An evil that isn’t satisfied with the balance. It'll do all it can to make sure darkness falls over Calen and the rest of the world once again.

  Scary? That ain’t the half of it.

  It’s particularly interested in me.

  Why? No idea.

  But it’s my job as a huntress to make sure the evil is stopped, no matter what.

  Contents

  Paranormal Huntress Series

  Find W.J. May

  NEVER LOOK BACK - Blurb:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  COVEN MASTER Blurb

  Paranormal Huntress Series

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  More books by W.J. May

  Chapter 1

  Louis sprinted through the darkness.

  His feet echoed against the alleyway walls, droplets of water splattering up as he dashed through puddles that had remained since the rain from the night before. A strong wind blew against him and hit at the flaps of his coat, forcing an unwanted resistance to his run. His breath escaped in gasps of white vapor.

  He ventured a look behind him, and his eyes widened as he saw how close his pursuer was. Louis quickened his pace, pushing himself harder. His legs burned in protest as he jumped over garbage cans and kicked through cardboard boxes.

  He needed to get out into the open, and quickly.

  Claws scratched at his back, and he felt the deep sting of fresh gouges against the fabric of his shirt. The pain only pushed him harder, and despite the ever-nearing mouth of the alleyway Louis knew he wouldn’t make it out alive. He threw caution to the wind, drawing on the little bit of strength he had left, and made for the nearest wall. He jumped, his feet skidding slightly against the wet asphalt, and flung forward. As soon as he was on the wall he raced upwards on his hands and feet, scaling the building with ease.

  His pursuer gave chase.

  Louis could feel the dampness from last night’s downpour on the cold bricks, but that wasn’t what caused him to shiver. He could hear the grunting of his pursuer behind him; growling pants as the man, who’d been chasing him for the past half hour, relentlessly followed. Louis weighed his options quickly, his mind racing with possible solutions, but his fear made it impossible for him to grasp onto a single strand of logic. All he had was his fight or flight instincts, and right now they were telling him to run faster.

  Once on the roof, Louis swiftly landed on his feet and continued forward, dashing across the building. There was no escape, and he couldn’t risk jumping off towards the street. It had taken his race generations to maintain their secrecy, and he wasn’t about to ruin that. He could only hope that his pursuer would eventually tire and allow Louis to outrun him.

  Louis dashed for the far end of the rooftop, and his eyes made a quick calculation of the distance between this one and the neighboring building. He could scale it easily, he knew that, but the real question was what then? He could almost feel the hot breath of his pursuer on the back of his neck, and despite everything Louis had tried it seemed like only he was tiring.

  He frowned, bared his fangs, and pushed harder just as the skies above him burst in a clash of thunder and bright flashes of lightning. He reached the end of the roof, pushed against the surface, and took off. He felt the wind blow against him, the first drops of rain falling like slow motion, and the sharp clasp of a claw around his ankle.

  Pulled back forcefully, he was tossed to the side like a rag doll. His head hit the roof and he could almost hear the bone cracking, his vision bursting into flashes of colors as he stumbled and rolled. But if there was one thing Louis Lesoleil was known for it was his speed, and he instantly pushed himself onto his feet.

  The hand which had grabbed him wrapped around his neck and pressed hard, breaking Louis’ ret
reat and forcing him to gasp. The tension was strong, squeezing and blocking his airway, and Louis lashed out wildly as the hand lifted him up off his feet easily.

  “This is the end of the line, Louis,” a voice hissed behind him, and Louis growled as the hand brought him down quickly and slammed him into the roof.

  Louis cried out as the bones in his nose cracked and blood spurted out in bursts of dark red. He turned over slowly, his vision blurry, the cloaked man standing over him a menacing presence. The clouds floodgates had opened completely, and the rain fell in torrents around them. From underneath the cloak’s hood, twin eyes burned a bright red, and a mouth opened to rows of fanged teeth.

  The figure’s entire face seemed to shift in and out focus. Louis could hardly believe what he was gazing at. “Impossible!” Louis coughed. “You can’t be here! None of you can! We closed the door!”

  The hooded figure’s mouth widened in a terrible grin. “Times have changed,” came a voice akin to nails scratching across a blackboard. “The shift in power begins now!”

  Louis sat up slowly. Just as he was about to reply, he gasped as the hooded figure’s hand burst through his chest and the clawed hand wrapped around his heart. He instinctively grabbed the arm buried inside him and tried to pull it away, his eyes locked onto the burning flames staring back at him.

  The hooded figure snickered and squeezed as Louis’ cries echoed in the night.

  Chapter 2

  Atlanta sat up in bed with a start.

  She fought to control her breathing, her head turning from side to side as her blurry vision still played parts of the nightmare. For a split second, she could still feel the walls closing in around her; the claustrophobia smothering her, dark fumes from a fire filling her nose with the wretched stench of burning bodies.

  And in it all, eyes. Red eyes. Staring at her.

  You’re okay. You’re okay.

  She gasped and forced her breathing to slow, fighting desperately for control. The walls around her slowly moved back to their regular places, and the shrill sound of her alarm clock made her jump. She pressed a hand against her chest, as if willing the thumping there to slow down, and winced at the pain her fast-beating heart was causing. She sniffed, inhaled and exhaled slowly, and shook her head as she tried to rid her nostrils of the smell of burning.

  It’s not a dream. Something’s actually burning.

  Atlanta quickly slammed her hand against the alarm and scurried out bed, her sweat-soaked blanket tossed to one side as her feet touched the cold wooden floor of her bedroom. She quickly glanced at her window quickly, taking in the orange beams of light escaping through her curtains, and pulled her t-shirt on.

  Out her room and on the second-floor landing, the smell of burning grew stronger now. “Hello?” she called out, descending the stairs by twos and bracing herself against the possibility of a fire. “Uncle James!”

  “In here!” came the almost childlike reply from the kitchen, the hoarse voice of her uncle mixed with curses and chuckles as pans clanged against each other.

  Atlanta raced across the hallway and into the kitchen, her nose wrinkling as the source of the smell made itself visible. Her uncle stood at the far end of the kitchen, racing back and forth between the sink and stove as black smoke rose from one of the pans there. She watched him grab the pan, and cringed when he hollered in pain.

  She hurried towards the stove, grabbing one of the mitts off the kitchen table, and with a quick flick of her hand turned the stove off and launched the pan into the sink. She turned the faucet on and stepped back as the water hissed against the scalding pan and whatever it was her uncle was trying to cook in it.

  “So much for breakfast.” Uncle James chuckled, shaking his singed hand. “That was supposed to be French toast.”

  “One day you’re going to burn the house down!” Atlanta sighed, grabbing her uncle’s hand and inspecting the burns. When she was satisfied that it wasn’t serious, she sighed heavily and shook her head at him. “Didn’t we say you’d leaving the cooking to me?”

  Uncle James laughed, his burly figure shaking with merriment and his shoulders bouncing up and down. “I couldn’t help myself,” he said with a grin. “One day you’re going to realize I’m not as bad as you think.”

  Atlanta smiled despite herself. “One day?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Just make sure we’re out in the open when that happens. I kinda like this house.”

  James Skolar clapped her on the shoulder with his burnt hand and immediately winced, breaking from a chuckle to a moan. He set himself down on one of the kitchen chairs and rifled through the pages of a cookbook he’d left open there, then closed it and tossed it into the garbage.

  Atlanta watched in amusement, quickly tying her bright blonde hair into a ponytail with the elastic hairband she had around her wrist at all times. “I didn’t hear you come in last night,” she said, opening a cupboard and pulling out the cereal. Breakfast of champions, she thought to herself.

  “Actually, I just got in,” James replied, stifling a sudden yawn.

  Atlanta set two bowls on the table and pushed the milk towards her uncle, only now noticing he was still wearing his jeans and shirt. “How was the funeral?”

  “Depressing,” James replied, nodding as he took the box of cereal from her and filled his bowl. “Dark. And dangerous.”

  Atlanta nodded as she poured herself a bowl and sat down. The news of Louis Lesoleil’s murder travelled quickly, and even though she’d wanted to go to the funeral as well her uncle had advised against it. Besides, the last time she had been to the Fortress, it hadn’t ended in the best of ways.

  “Marcus is obviously devastated,” James broke through her thoughts. “The Vamps are out for blood, that’s for sure.”

  “Do they know who did it?” she asked, stuffing the first spoonful of cereal into her mouth and glancing up at the clock on the wall. She didn’t want to be late for school.

  “Claws, scratches, fist through the heart,” James sighed. “All points to the Pack.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Atlanta said, frowning. “There’s been peace between the two families for centuries. Why break that now?”

  James shook his head and shrugged, pushing his untouched breakfast to the side. “There’s going to be a meeting tonight,” he said, slowly pushing himself out of his chair. “You get to school and worry about your tests. Leave the families to me.” He ruffled her hair and walked out of the kitchen.

  She absently finished her cereal and made her way back up to her bedroom. Her mind raced with flashes of her nightmare, a mix of fire and screams lingering in the back of her head like a bad headache. She could hear her uncle snoring from his own bedroom, the usual sign that he was more than exhausted, and she chuckled to herself.

  Ever since her parents’ death, Uncle James was all the family she had. She didn’t know anything else, and she owed him so much. She could only imagine what it had been like for him, being handed the responsibility of a two-year-old girl, expected to raise her in a world that was far from kind. Personally, she thought he had done a great job so far…despite the frequent burnt dinners.

  She sorted through her clothes, picking out the most comfortable ensemble she could find, and quickly got dressed. Barefoot, she dashed about her room, packing her bag and making sure she hadn’t left any of her due assignments behind. Her cellphone rang just as she was leaving her bedroom, and Skylar’s name flashed on the screen.

  “Two minutes,” Atlanta said upon answering, dropping to her knees and pulling a chest out from under her bed.

  “I never get how you wake up at dawn every morning,” Skylar chastised, “and still manage to keep me waiting.”

  Atlanta sighed and opened the chest. “I said two minutes, Skylar,” she said, gazing at the various weapons inside before opting for a black-hilted knife with golden symbols etched into it. It had been her first weapon, a present from her Uncle James on her twelfth birthday when he had turned her world upside dow
n. She remembered hating him for it back then, but now she had a completely different respect for the man. She could only imagine how difficult it must have been for him.

  “Fine,” Skylar sighed in frustration, “but if I miss watching Ryan Toller walk down the hallway this morning, I’m going to hate you forever.”

  Atlanta hung up with a smile. She reached for a sheath, wrapped it around her forearm, and slid the knife into place. Grabbing her coat, she made sure the long sleeves of her shirt concealed the weapon, and raced downstairs.

  If Louis Lesoleil’s murder was going to cause ripples, then Calen High was going to be very interesting today.

  Chapter 3

  Calen was a city that had very little to offer.

  Much like any other metropolis, it wasn’t known for its charm or hospitality. The people weren’t welcoming, and it was commonplace to find yourself in the middle of a brawl that broke out for absolutely no reason. Traffic sucked; public transportation sucked, too. It was a loud and dark city; its skyscrapers towering over the ghettos a stark reminder that, even here, the rich got richer and the poor grew poorer.

  Still, for many it was home, and Atlanta couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Despite being raised in the suburbs the city was still hers, and she had long since decided that she would live and die here. Besides, although Calen was not known for being the center of anything, it was definitely the heart and soul of her world. The underworld. The world between the cracks that very few people ventured into and ever came back from in one piece.

  Sitting in the passenger seat beside Skylar, her blonde friend chatting about random things Atlanta had quickly learned to filter, she gazed out the window at the passing houses. One of the calmer neighborhoods of Calen’s suburbs, Witch Hills, appeared to be a little more upscale and detached from the hustle and bustle of downtown. The ubiquitous gothic architecture throughout the city seemed a little Gotham-Batman style, but was still a signature trait of Calen and everything it stood for.