Horror - Thriller/Suspense
Publisher: Sapphire Star Publishing
Date Published- 4/4/13
Synopsis:
…a matter of light and death…
In the sleepy college town of Cumberton, MD, an old cemetery must be moved to make room for a new dormitory, and an ungodly Light, buried for centuries, escapes. A rash of gruesome student suicides rocks the town. Sheriff Estin Booker teams up with former Baltimore homicide detective Anna Tucci to investigate the deaths. What neither expects is to have all roads point to a 2000-year-old legend which, if true, could lead to the destruction of mankind.
The most frightening account of the power of evil breeching our world since The Exorcist, DEAD LIGHT will teach you the most improbable lesson you will ever learn:
FEAR THE LIGHT!
Read an excerpt:
The
thickness faded again, like she’d just awakened from a deep sleep.
Wait,
no, she must still be dreaming ‘cause she was standing naked on the
bench seat
of a rowboat in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay. She heard a low hum and
looked down to see the sound came from the friction of a black line
rubbing across
the boat’s edge. Something on the end of the line must be awfully
heavy to
make the line run that fast. She followed the line back to—Oh,
my God!
The
line
was tied to her ankles and—someone was treading water next to the
boat.
Grampy?
Impossible, Grampy was—the man in the water had no eyes and no mouth.
Just a black hole that opened on the side of his face. She shrieked
as loud
as she could, but knew no one could hear her.
She
felt the line scratch her ankle. She saw in an instant she would be yanked
overboard. She crouched and grabbed the line to slow it down, but the weight
was too heavy. She jumped off the bench and tried to use the gunnel
as leverage
to stop the pull of the line, slowing it down some. If she could just
untie the
knot around her ankles . . . yet if she let go to free the knot, the
line would pull
her into the water.
The
muscles in her arms weakened, her hands bled from the rope burns.
She
screamed again, but she was too far out for anyone to hear. Her eyes
fell on the oarlock. A chance, but she had to pull the oar out of the
lock. She tried to kick it loose, but the instant she lifted her foot
she was yanked forward. She quickly replanted her leg to maintain the
brace against the weight, then clamped the oar between her knees and
tried to lift it. Her legs were slick with sweat and she couldn’t
get a grip. She tried again, pressing her legs together as hard as
possible and this time the oar moved, but she couldn’t maintain the
hold and the oar slipped back into the setting. The line was digging deeper
into her flesh and her hands were now slippery with blood, making the line
even more difficult to hold.
She
knew she had only one more chance. This time she squatted deep and
sat on the oar. She crossed her legs, clamping it hard against her
body, then stood
up straight. The oar lifted it from its setting. Yes!
She released the pressure
and the oar dropped between her legs, hit the bench and bounced overboard.
She
looped the line around the lock. Immediately, she felt the tension slack.
She twisted the line around two more times for good measure. It was holding!
She let one hand fall from the line, then the other. Thank
you, God!
Only
one oar left, but she could use it to paddle back as soon as she
untied the line.
She bent down to her feet and attacked the knot. Damn, it was so
tight.
“Shipshape,
Jilly, shipshape!”
The
voice was coming from the water, from that thing. She couldn’t
spare a
second to look up. The knot was impossible—no, wait, one of the
loops loosened.
Just a touch. A bit more and she’d be able to—
Snap.
The
weight on the line had ripped the oarlock completely out of the
railing.
The line was running free. She reached for it, then felt a tremendous yank
as if something or someone was pulling on the line from the depths
below.
In
a split second she was overboard.
She
struggled to tread water; with her ankles tied together she had to move
like a mermaid. She’d grown up by the bay and was a strong swimmer,
but the
weight was heavy.
Her
head slipped below the surface. No!
She would not drown!
Summoning all of her remaining strength, she undulated her hips and
knifed up to the surface. She pulled her long red hair from her face.
The boat was right there! She reached up and was able to curl her
fingers around the railing. She caught her breath. If she could just
hold on until—
“Want
a hand, Jilly?”
She
looked up. The thing, the Grampy thing was now in the boat. He—it—reached
downand touched her bare shoulder. She watched in horror as its flesh
dropped into the water like overcooked meat from the shank, leaving nothing
but greasy black bone. He laughed and pulled his arm back. She didn’t scream.
She had to keep all her wits about her and concentrate. Maybe if she swung
back and forth she’d be able to get her elbow over the rail and—her fingers
were slipping. The rail was covered in something slick. She tightened
her
grip,
but it wasn’t working.
She
smelled something. What was it? Cookies. Burnt cookies. Not
chocolate
chip, more like—
The
thing leaned over the rail, inches from her face. Its putrid breath compelled
her stomach to convulse violently, and she had to fight to keep the bile
from rising in her throat.
“Time
to go, Jilly.”
God
help me!
She felt a tickling across her breasts and looked down to see
a swarm of shiny black waterbugs tightly circling her. She tried to
dig her nails
into the wooden rail and squeeze her fingers as hard as she could.
For a moment
she didn’t move. Then the muscles in her fingers weakened and her
grip slowly
curled under the railing. No!
No! No!
Wait.
Of course. This is a dream. Has to be. She laughed to herself,
hoping
she would remember everything in the morning so she could tell Tony.
He’d
probably tease her for dreaming she was naked.
The
tickling became more pronounced, and she looked down again. The bugs
had formed two long lines. With military precision, each line scaled
one of her
breasts, circling the rounded flesh like a conquering army. Deeper
into the water
she saw the Grampy thing looking up at her, smiling, beckoning.
And
she knew she wasn’t dreaming.
She
willed the muscles in her fingers to hold, but they were numb and could
no longer respond. Her grip released.
She
didn’t scream. Instead, she used her last breath to whisper,
“Beware the
Light.”
Then
Jill Louise Bryant slid silently down into the black glass.
Buy link: Amazon \ Barnes & Noble
Author Bio
Mike Pace was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He attended the University of Illinois on an art scholarship, and graduated with a BFA degree. He taught public school in Washington D.C.’s inner city, while attending law school at Georgetown University. As an attorney, he prosecuted numerous cases, including those involving murder and rape. He resigned in order to practice law part time, thereby allowing him the time to devote to his first love, creative writing. He lives on the Chesapeake Bay with his wife and two dogs, Blueberry and Scout. DEAD LIGHT is Mike’s first novel.
Website-
http:// Mikepacebooks.com
Twitter-
www.twitter.com/MikePacebooks
