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Natalie's Trial
Natalie's Trial
Natalie's Trial
Ebook68 pages44 minutes

Natalie's Trial

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About this ebook

When her law firm banishes her to Florida, lycanthrope-turned-lawyer Natalie Fitzsimons thinks her days of chasing monsters in the dark are over. But when a prominent local author makes a deal with a demon, her latest case will be anything but by the book.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherAlden Bauers
Release dateJan 9, 2021
ISBN9781005090562
Natalie's Trial
Author

Alden Bauers

Alden Bauers was born and raised on Long Island. He currently resides in Spartanburg, South Carolina where he works as a computer technician. He's married and has two young children. When he's not writing or spending time with his family, Alden enjoys modeling the Pennsylvania Railroad in N Scale.

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    Book preview

    Natalie's Trial - Alden Bauers

    Natalie’s Trial

    Copyright 2020 Alden Bauers

    Published by Alden Bauers at Smashwords

    Smashwords Edition License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Table of Contents

    Acknowledgments

    One

    Two

    Three

    Four

    Five

    Six

    Seven

    Epilogue

    About Alden Bauers

    Other books by Alden Bauers

    Connect with Alden Bauers

    Acknowledgements

    I would like to thank the following people for helping make this book possible. First and foremost are KG McAbee, Steven A. Gentry and CH Babb, whose editing, insights and tough love was invaluable.

    One

    Vero Beach, Florida

    Thunder rattled the windows as the rain hammered against the roof. A balding man of about 55 knelt in the center of a large pentagram formed by black electrical tape. Candles burned in each of the symbol's five corners.

    His heart pounded against his chest as he recited the ancient words. A clap of thunder rocked the house. A flash of lightning filled the room with green light. A tall, bearded man clad in a black cloak appeared. He stood on a pair of cloven hooves.

    Why hast thou summoned me?

    The man trembled, fumbling for words. They wouldn't come.

    My patience wears thin!

    The man spoke.

    The woman I love is married to a man who doesn't deserve her. I want you to make her mine.

    You wish to give your immortal soul for the hand of your beloved?

    Oh yes.

    The hooved figure snapped his fingers. A parchment appeared, levitating before the man. Along with it was a long, black feather pen.

    Sign!

    The man took the quill. Flames flew from the tip as he made his mark.

    ***

    David Scruggs sat in a toilet stall in the Indian River Mall, a hypodermic needle clenched in his jaws. He was gaunt and pale with hair died a shade of green that'd have given Crayola a run for their money.

    How David loathed seeing his ex-wife's picture on the cover of Peter Drange's books and plastered all over Vero Beach.

    Things hadn't always been like this of course. He and Lisa had once been happy. But then, came the accident, followed by months of rehab and, finally, the opioids. The damn dope cost him everything.

    He tied a tourniquet tight around his arm, found a vein, and injected. The dope didn't waste any time going to work. This was high-octane shit.

    Oh, man!

    David knew he was in trouble when he started seeing double. His skin took on a blueish hue. He staggered out of the stall, throwing his weight against a sink.

    David saw a man eyeing him. He was tall with a pallid complexion and a dark, neatly-trimmed beard. He wore a long, black coat.

    You gotta help me!

    The man stood silent and motionless.

    David collapsed. The last thing on Earth he saw was the man's feet, or more appropriately, hooves.

    ***

    He sat on the back deck of the Riverside Café looking like the photo on the dust jacket of his latest bestseller. Clad in khaki slacks, a white shirt, and a navy sport coat and shod in a pair of boat shoes sans socks, he sipped his scotch while watching a yacht drift

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