Simply Spooky - Excerpt From Halflings By Kat Gracey

Copyright © 2019 Kat Gracey
All Rights Reserved

Prologue

Anger courses through my veins, as I’m roused from my slumber by a knock at the door. How dare they wake me early.
I rise from my bed, checking the illuminated dial of the clock on the wall. I am supposed to sleep for at least three more days. They will pay for waking me. Without the proper time to rest, I’m left in a weakened state. It is a ritual I abhor. Thankfully, it only happens once every few decades.
The room is in darkness, soundproofed against outside noise. Whoever is knocking must be knocking hard enough to be heard. Not bothering to dress, I wrench open the door to find a lackey on the other side. He is trembling, his eyes cast at the floor.
“The building had better be on fire,” I roar at him.
He shrinks back. “No, sire. I was told to summon you at once. It’s urgent.”
“By whom?”
“The old woman. She says it can’t wait.”
If she’s here, then it must be serious.
I retrieve a shirt and pants and dress quickly. The lackey stands obediently in the hallway, still looking at the floor. As I pass him, I lash out. My fist strikes him in the face with enough force to snap his head back. It strikes the wall behind and he crumples to the floor.
I pass another lackey on the way. “Clean that mess up, will you.”
She is waiting for me in the study. Seated on the love seat, her face is hidden behind a long, black veil. Over the decades, she has had many names, most long forgotten. Now she is simply known as the ‘old woman’.
A seer by trade, I usually summoned her when I needed her services. The fact that she had come here by herself suggested that I wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
“What an unexpected surprise,” I say, not bothering to hide the anger in my voice.
“You’d do well to curb that tongue of yours. Especially since I am here to offer you something that you have always wanted,” she says. Her voice is a rasp, showing her age.
“And what is that?”
“A way home.”
I smile and lower myself into the chair opposite her. “I’m listening.”

One

“Skank bitch,” I muttered, as I picked the lock on Lauren Jenkins’ locker. I was going to teach her a lesson for that little stunt she pulled today.
Most people know that Riley Teague shouldn’t be messed with. I have a habit of taking nasty revenge on those that do. But Lauren obviously hadn’t gotten the memo.
The lock popped and I opened the door to reveal Lauren’s homecoming dress, hanging inside. I watched her hang it there earlier today. It was pale pink, all lace and frills.
Gag me, I thought. I couldn’t imagine wearing something so girly. Even as a child I always refused to wear a dress. Events like homecoming were the only things bitches like Lauren cared about.
“Wouldn’t it be awful if...?” I said, pouring the bottle of black ink I had stolen from art class, down the front of her dress.
I could still hear half the school laughing from earlier, as she dumped her soda on me, after calling me white trash. It took two teachers to drag me away. If I had gotten the chance, I would have clawed her face off. I guess this would have to do instead.
I grinned, already imaging the look on her face. I pocketed the bottle and closed the locker. A door slammed shut down the hall. The noise sounded like a gunshot. I froze in place, wondering who it could be.
It was after eleven at night. I had sneaked in through the boiler room myself. It wasn’t hard; the janitors were always forgetting to lock it after their smoke breaks. I would bum a few from them, from time to time.
Maybe I left the door open and the wind blew it shut?
I took a step down the darkened hall, watching for any movement. If something jumped out at me, I would scream like a horror movie heroine. God, this place is creepy at night.
The only thing I could see was an empty hallway, lit by a solitary emergency light. It was time to leave anyway. As I started walking, my boots sounding overly loud, I heard the door squeak open ahead of me. I quickly ducked into the gym.
Footsteps headed my way.
Shit, what if it’s a cop? I really didn’t need another strike against me.
There was nowhere to hide in the gym, so I ran across the hardwood floor to the boy’s locker room. It was almost totally dark inside. If it was laid out like the girl’s locker room, then I could probably find my way out the other side. Not that I attended many gym classes.
I moved carefully, hoping I wouldn’t trip over something and break my leg.
The gym door opened. He or she was heading my way. I crouched behind a bench, opposite the showers, praying whoever it was, wouldn’t see me.
I tried not to retch at the stink of this place. It was disgusting. Like sweat and old gym socks.
The footsteps came closer, in the room now. A light went on, but it only illuminated the showers. I was still hidden in the darkness. I watched as he came into view. It was Kellen Riker, one of the football players. Relief flooded me; at least it wasn’t a cop.
When he turned in my direction, I bit back a gasp. Kellen’s clothes, face and arms were covered in blood. Drenched in blood. He didn’t appear to be hurt, so who’s blood was it?
God, did he kill someone?
Kellen was on the football team, but off the field, he was a loner. He had lived in town for less than a year. What if he was a serial killer?
And I’m trapped in this room with him.

Kat Gracey writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels featuring her two favorite supernatural beings - witches and werewolves.
She currently resides in the UK, where she enjoys yoga and catching up on her favorite shows. You can learn more about her books via her website: 

KAT'S WEBSITE