Jason Willow: Face Your Demons

By Gareth Mottram

Kindle Book Review (5/5 Stars)My favourite part of the book was the rip-roaring, rollicking ending. Action? Man, yes!

"Demons are real. They killed your mother and now they want you. Run and hide with your craven father or learn to fight – it’s your choice."

Sixteen year-old, martial artist Jason Willow and his sister have been on the run from inhuman assassins all their lives but their parents refuse to tell them why.

When their mother is killed, they are forced to accept the protection of a charismatic figure from their father's secret past. As Jason fights to survive in an isolated, gang-controlled school, he finds friends with deadly troubles of their own and falls for a girl who, for once, doesn’t treat him like a rootless drifter.

But then his father’s past life is revealed and a terrifying, treacherous world of demons opens up all around him. Torn between a powerful dark mentor, family, friends and love, Jason refuses to run anymore. He joins a deadly training regime which promises to unlock incredible powers buried deep within him.

But people are not always what they seem and there are reasons why his father kept them running. As more secrets come to light, Will Jason discover the truth about his mentor, friends and family before the ripples of his growing abilities draw in the darkness that has stalked him since birth?

Face Your Demons is packed full of hard-hitting action, first love, demonic horror, suspense and supernatural powers. Fear and fury rip through such locations as a remote Scottish island, a high-tech abbey stronghold and a hellish community lost deep in the Yorkshire moors.

Buy JASON WILLOW today to flee through the dark with hot demon-breath brushing your neck.

Reviews for Jason Willow
Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award - Expert Reviewers: "Carving out believable relationships between siblings, especially brothers and sisters, isn't something I see done well in young adult fiction, but I think this author hit the nail on the head...... And then there is the mystery of the kids' father - what is his past all about? Is he a good guy or a bad guy?"

ABNA Quarter Finals: Publishers Weekly Reviewer: "...the exciting plot keeps the pages turning. The description of Jason’s Gift is particularly original and the fight scenes are intense."

The SL – School Librarian magazine (U.K): “This exciting first novel is not for the faint hearted with menacing locations and action descriptions. Issues of bullying, violence, family loyalties, friendships and the battle between good and evil make this a fairly complex but exceedingly hard to put down novel...”

The Times Educational Supplement (Web Site – reader review): "The fierce, often gruesome, battles suggest similarities with modern day computer games..."

Amazon.co.uk: reader review: "The images created are so vivid you become part of the scenery and feel like you are only a few footsteps behind the action... There is nothing typical about this book, the baddies get their fair share of success and the goodies also get their fair share of kicks in the face which leaves you shouting "noooooooo... you can't do that".

Amazon.co.uk: reader reviews
"Jason Willow's quest to establish his true identity is one long roller coaster of action and suspense."
"Magnificent locations came alive with an ever-present sense of menace."
"The other characters, good and bad, were skilfully built upon as the story progressed and I can't wait to hear more of their story."
"...action packed and full of twists"
"...really breathed life into this family"
"The author drew me in immediately"
"...exciting and definitely very gruesome"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gareth Mottram
• Release date: Aug 12, 2010
• ISBN: 9780955747137

Gareth Mottram

Hi. I am a father of four fabulous kids and a teacher of teenagers and primary school children. I escaped from full time school to also work for an educational charity and write world famous (nearly) novels and design scintillating strategy games.I have trained (badly) in various martial arts over the years but now I focus on the less painful pastimes of racquet sports and writing.I started writing at about twelve, inspired by a fantasy series by Stephen Donaldson. In November 2007, I had 500 copies of my Y/A supernatural action novel JASON WILLOW printed the old fashioned way. Luckily, only half a dozen copies are still boxed up in my garage. I leapt onto the P.O.D. bandwagon as it took off and have released the entire trilogy of Jason Willow novels as both paperback and ebook.My current project is BATTLE - a Dark Ages fantasy series, filled with action, complex relationships and stunning locations. The books will tie into a revolutionary new card game I am designing - you will be able to recreate the skirmishes and battles in the stories using a wide range of beautifully illustrated cards as well as set up your own conflicts.You can discover more about all of my books and games and catch up with the latest developments on https://www.facebook.com/RedButtonPress

Book preview

Kindle Book Review March 2013 (5/5 Stars)

My favorite part of the book was the rip-roaring, rollicking ending. Action? Man, yes!

Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award - Expert Reviewers

Carving out believable relationships between siblings, especially brothers and sisters, isn't something I see done well in young adult fiction, but I think this author hit the nail on the head… and then there is the mystery of the kids' father - what is his past all about? Is he a good guy or a bad guy? I think that is the real burning question?

ABNA Quarter Finals: Publishers Weekly Reviewer

...the exciting plot keeps the pages turning. The description of Jason’s Gift is particularly original and the fight scenes are intense.

The SL – School Librarian magazine

This exciting first novel is not for the faint hearted with menacing locations and action descriptions. Issues of bullying, violence, family loyalties, friendships and the battle between good and evil make this a fairly complex but exceedingly hard to put down novel…

The Times Educational Supplement (Web Site – reader review)

The fierce, often gruesome, battles suggest similarities with modern day computer games...

Amazon.co.uk: reader review

…The images created are so vivid you become part of the scenery and feel like you are only a few footsteps behind the action…

Amazon.co.uk: reader review

Jason Willow's quest to establish his true identity is one long roller coaster of action and suspense. Magnificent locations came alive with an ever-present sense of menace. The other characters, good and bad, were skilfully built upon as the story progressed…

Jason Willow: Face Your Demons

Edition 5.0

Gareth Mottram

Published by The Red Button Press at Smashwords

Copyright © 2018 Gareth Mottram

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 use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Discover other titles by Gareth Mottram:

Jason Willow 2: My Enemy's Enemy

Jason Willow 3: Carpe Diem

Table of Contents

Reviews

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

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Jason Willow 2: My Enemy's Enemy

Jason Willow 3: Carpe Diem

What next from Gareth Mottram

About the Author

Dedications

Discussion Guide

CHAPTER 1

Hertfordshire, England – 13 Months Ago

‘Get down!’ Dad yelled and hurled Jason and Miranda to the floor.

Jason tucked into a roll and ended in a crouch, flattening himself against a concrete pillar. Mum and Dad darted behind parked cars as a blacked-out van squealed to a halt and three men in long, leather coats burst out, each gripping a short machine gun.

Miranda leapt on Jason from behind and pressed him to the floor. ‘Keep down, you…’

Gunfire exploded through the multi-storey car park as bullets ripped concrete from the columns all around them. Jason slapped his sister’s arm away and jerked his head up.

Grey dust filled his nose and clouded his eyes but he could just make out Dad crouching behind the next pillar with his small HK45 pistol in hand. One of the gunmen suddenly ran towards them and leapt clear across the bonnet of a 4x4, his overcoat billowing out behind him like gigantic bat wings.

Dad shot him through the heart with a single bullet. As the dead-eyed head smacked onto the floor, Dad surged to his feet, thrusting his free hand out in front of him. The air seemed to shimmer in front of his left palm as the gun cracked out lead from his right.

Miranda caught Jason in a headlock and pulled him down again. ‘Stay down, they’re agents. There’s nothing you can do.’

Jason fought against her expert hold. ‘Dad needs us - it’s still two Uzis against one…’

Suddenly the shooting stopped and silence slammed down around them.

‘Not any more,’ Miranda whispered and eased her grip.

Jason broke free and scrambled to his knees. Dad stood just a couple of metres away, scanning the cars with his gun still out. Jason rose slowly.

‘Where’s Mum?’

‘I’m so sorry…’ Dad said, his voice barely audible. He didn’t look at them. ‘They hit her first.’

What was he talking about? Jason's eyes darted from car to car, not focusing properly – he couldn't seem to draw proper breaths. Miranda stumbled past him like a zombie and lurched to a halt next to Dad. She stared at the floor on the other side of a bright yellow car for a moment then silently sank to her knees.

Jason was next to her a second later. Their mother lay there, unmoving, a single dark patch spreading across the cream blouse she had bought especially for the theatre tonight. Her Italian switchblade lay open and glinting inches from her hand – useless against the Uzis.

This couldn’t be happening – they always escaped in time, always.

He forced himself closer and a hint of the lemony perfume that had always been part of her reached him. He stretched out a hand which wouldn't stop shaking - her skin was warm and soft, her eyes closed and peaceful. She couldn’t be dead.

Police sirens sounded from somewhere still streets away. Jason looked up. A few stricken faces were staring at them – normal people leading normal lives. One man held his mobile phone inches away from his mouth - frozen.

Dad dropped to one knee beside Jason and cupped Mum’s cheek in his gun-free hand. He was absolutely silent but the tendons down his neck bulged almost out of his skin.

Jason’s eyes began to burn from the inside and the whole car park blurred down to Miranda’s silent tears dropping onto the concrete, dark spots in the dust, fading almost as quickly as they fell. Jason felt her slip one arm around him and her head gently rest against his.

‘We have to leave,’ Dad said, his voice cracking. ‘Kiss your mother – you need to say goodbye properly.’

Miranda only hesitated for a second then fell forward, clinging on to Mum’s limp body. Jason couldn’t move. Mum's warm blood was soaking into his jeans.

CHAPTER 2

Northwest Scotland – Present Day

‘There she is,’ Dad said, ‘our very own fairy tale castle.’

Jason Willow smiled as their Land Rover bumped and rattled down the hillside track. Eila Doone hadn’t changed - it never would. Definitely not fairy tale - his grandfather’s Scottish castle was more like something from an old Dracula film with its squat turrets and thick walls rising straight out of a misted loch.

Hidden in the middle of the tiny island of Mawn, just off the stormy north coast of Scotland, those forbidding grey walls had been the closest thing to a home Jason had known for his sixteen years of life on the run.

Docking in Mawn’s one-boat harbour had been hard this time though. Ever since he could remember, he, his sister, Miranda and Mum had crammed themselves inside the tiny waiting room there to shelter from the inevitable storms while Dad had played the hero, shivering outside and making pathetic faces through the window.

Now it was only the three of them, Dad wouldn’t have to wait out in the rain any more.

‘Snap out of it,’ Miranda said, elbowing his ribs, ‘we’re here.’

Jason grunted at her. Only a year older, Miranda spent most of her time looking out for him – unless she was busy flashing her big blue eyes at boys or burying them in a psychology text book.

Jason grabbed a handle as they swerved into a cow shed that had been promoted to be the castle’s garage. Their driver, Old Duncan, cut the growling engine. ‘Out you are…’ he began but a loud Highlands’ voice crackled from the cab radio to cut him short.

‘Are ye there, Duncan…? There’s another one here for ye at the station. He’s wanting to stay at the castle.’

Duncan grunted and reached for the microphone. Short wave radio was the only way to communicate with Mawn. Mobile phones had no signal in the mountains and laying miles of land-line for a population of under fifty had never been worth the cost.

‘Idiot - why couldn’t he have shown himself when I picked you lot up?’ Old Duncan grumbled, squinting to find the transmit button.

‘That’ll be another sun-worshipper here for the weekend then,’ Miranda said, staring up at the thickening cloud. ‘Another shamelessly bare body waddling in and out of the loch all day.’

‘We should drown them all,’ Duncan grunted, then mumbled into the microphone. ‘I’m coming.’

The Willows clambered out just as a cold rain began to patter down on the shed’s tin roof. Dad quickly pulled the bags out of the back while Old Duncan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Almost before Dad was clear, Old Duncan reversed out of the shed, winding down his window. ‘Mr Darillian will see you in the High Hall,’ he shouted, ‘I’m away back for this blasted late-comer.’

Darillian was Grandfather’s surname. It used to be Jason’s of course - about four, maybe five, lives ago. Identity was just one of the many things he lost each time they moved. Everything had to be changed - bank accounts, passports, health records and anything else that recorded who they were. Friends had to be totally cut off as well but Jason was finding it easier and easier to forget them each time.

As the Land Rover roared away, the two teenagers stared up at the castle, its massive walls already slick with rainwater. They would hide away here whilst their next new life was put together by Alan Brash - the all-powerful fixer from Dad’s never-talked-about past. They both loved every stone of this place, every rattling drafty window and ancient creaking door.

‘Watch the bridge,’ Dad shouted over the wind gusting in through the shed’s empty windows, ‘- it’ll be slippy.’

‘Dad, you’ve had us sparring on the edges of icy planks since we were four,’ Miranda said without turning around, ‘I think we can manage a...’ Without any warning, she pushed Jason backwards and sprinted out into the rain.

‘Cheat,’ Jason yelled and tore after her.

Eighteen and fit as a cage fighter, Miranda was too fast for him to make up for the head-start and she leapt onto the bridge first, her long blonde hair streaming out behind her like fire from a jet engine. The crossing was no more than two metres wide, low walled and slick-stoned with rock-frothed waters churning below. Miranda streaked across it with Jason just a steamy breath behind.

On the tiny island, the second of two Himalayan Cedars was the traditional finishing post. The instant they were off the bridge, Jason flicked his right foot out and caught Miranda’s left. She tumbled forward but tucked into a tight roll and came up running at Jason’s side as he tried to pass her.

They swung semi-contact blows and trips at each other as they ran, each one blocked or dodged. Three metres from the finish, Miranda feigned a punch to Jason’s head and simultaneously stepped her foot out wide to trip him.

Jason fell, just managing a roll but to the side, away from the tree. By the time he flipped back to his feet, Miranda was waving to him with one of the lower branches, her breathing almost back to normal already.

‘You cheated,’ Jason said, kicking a bit of mud up at her.

‘I don’t think your grandfather is very impressed, cheating or not,’ Dad said, joining them under the branches. Rain ran from his hair onto the three cases he carried. He nodded towards the castle.

Jason knew exactly where to look. He swung his eyes up to a small window on the fourth floor – the High Hall. There, staring down at them through the rain-streaked glass, was the dark silhouette of their grandfather.

‘Well you trained us, Dad,’ Jason said, ‘it’s your fault if our Jakra isn’t up to scratch.’

‘I thought it might be down to me, somehow,’ Dad grumbled.

‘It’s all right, Daddy,’ Miranda said, giving a joyful wave up to the window, ‘Grandfather’s smiling deep down inside.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Jason groaned. After fighting dirty and nearly breaking his neck, Miranda was now going to put on her ultra-sweet, granddaughter act.

‘Come on, let’s say hello to the old… man,’ Dad said. ‘Remember…’

‘Best behaviour,’ Jason and Miranda chimed in unison. He’d been telling them that ever since he and mum had raced a pushchair each to the second cedar.

They each ducked their heads against the building storm and walked into the shadow of Eila Doone.

Eight-foot high, six-inch thick, double doors studded with iron barred the entrance as they had done for about nine hundred years. Jason pushed one open easily enough though and they scurried inside. As Dad shut the door, the cold and silence of the castle filled the triple height entrance hall rising up around them.

Eila Doone had given up very little of herself in becoming an exclusive, hiker’s and writer's hotel. Worn tapestries, pole arms, shields and claymores were still lashed to the walls from centuries gone by. The only sign that the ancient hallway they stood in was now a hotel reception area was a small desk in one corner. As usual it was unmanned.

Dad started humming Home, home on the range as he dumped their cases at the reception desk and started towards the main staircase. Brett Darillian, Grandfather, didn’t like to be kept waiting.

The staircase split and they took the right hand fork into a much smaller stairway spiralling up through a turret. Cold, grey stone screwed around Jason as he trotted up steps worn smooth by centuries of footfalls. Twice, the echoing walls suddenly broke open onto a narrow corridor and then, just as quickly, sealed them in again before they approached the private fourth floor.

Jason smelled the fire in the High Hall long before he left the stairwell. It was one of the few family rooms Grandfather heated regularly. The three of them stepped out onto the landing and came face to face with the ogre himself.

‘You should have recognized Miranda’s feint, Jason – there was no power in it.’ Brett Darillian stared steadily at his grandson through dark, double doors opened wide. He stood at the far end of the long hall, framed by the rain lashed window and with a twelve-seat, mahogany table stretched between him and his only remaining family. Tall, powerfully built and with cropped grey hair over a face chiselled from stone, Grandfather might have been part of the castle itself.

‘We were only messing about,’ Jason said, slouching into the room.

‘There’s no messing about, not now you’re coming of age. One day, seeing the difference between a feint and a real blow might save your life.’

‘They are allowed some childhood yet, I think.’

Jason jumped at the East European voice. A thinly bearded man, tall and gaunt, stepped out of the shadows of the doorway behind him.

It was Marakoff – Grandfather’s estate manager. He walked with a thick stick, limping on his right leg. This, coupled with the loose grey trousers and shabby shirt hanging off him, added a decade or so to his fifty odd years.

‘Quite right, Marakoff, we’re only babies,’ Miranda said, striding into the High Hall and past the sentry-like chairs to throw her arms around Grandfather’s neck.

Brett Darillian didn’t flinch from his rigid stance behind the Laird's Seat as Miranda wrapped herself around him. Jason winced – Grandfather must be about as comforting to hug as a rock. Still, his sister usually managed to crack the ice a little and today was to be no exception. Awkwardly, Grandfather patted one bear-like hand against her back then eased her away.

‘That’s enough girl - you’re no longer a bairn.’

‘There’s no age limit on cuddles, Grandfather,’ Miranda said, smiling up at him sweetly.

Jason crossed the hall to greet him with a little more decorum. Men didn’t hug each other in Grandfather’s world. He shook hands with his grandfather, putting all his strength in returning the old man’s cold, iron-hard grip.

Grandfather gave a barely perceptible nod. ‘You’re getting somewhat stronger.’

‘Hello, father,’ Dad said, finally stepping in between the open doors.

‘They’ve found you again then, have they, Richard?’ Grandfather asked.

No one spoke. This was the only thing Jason hated about Mawn – there was such contempt in Grandfather’s eyes when he looked at Dad and it burned in every word he said to him.

The two men stared at each other. Dad stood tall, not looking in the least bit intimidated but he turned away first, to give a sad smile to his children. ‘Do you want to unpack while I have a chat with your grandfather?’

‘Okay but no arguing, you two,’ Miranda said, in a particularly air-head sort of way.

‘As if…’ Dad said, winking at her.

Jason grabbed his sister’s arm and pulled her out. Marakoff silently closed the double doors behind him.

‘Over a year trying to disappear in Spain – what brought you back? Did another agent find you scrabbling in the dirt of some vineyard?’ Jason heard Grandfather say as he and Miranda pressed their ears to the thick wood.

‘Father, will you lower your voice - the children…’ Dad said.

‘They’re no longer children, Richard, either of them. You still haven’t told them have you? An entire year after having their mother shot in front of their eyes and they still don’t know why. Jason has to be allowed to choose what to do with his life - he will be coming into his…’

‘Brett,’ Marakoff’s measured voice cut in, ‘they are both just outside the door.’

Surprisingly Grandfather took notice of somebody and his voice faded out of hearing.

‘Bugger,’ Jason whispered, and the two of them scuttled back down the spiral stairs. ‘What do you reckon I have to choose? What am I coming into?’

‘Into his… inheritance?’ Miranda guessed. ‘Perhaps Grandfather’s going to leave sun-kissed Mawn to you when you grow up… which will be in about another thirty years I’d say.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Jason grinned, ‘it’s going to be just the same crappy old argument, isn’t it?’

‘Aye, laddie,’ Miranda said, dropping into a terrible impression of Grandfather’s Scottish accent. ‘It’s your duty to tell them everything, Richard – you can’t expect them to run for the rest of their lives as well.’

Jason nodded. This was the reason they’d never moved to Mawn permanently – Dad had always told them that he’d protect them from the dangers of his old life and that included telling them virtually nothing about it until they were grown up.

Dad’s protection hadn’t been enough to save their mother though. It was just the three of them now and they all needed to look after each other.

‘Sometimes I wish Grandfather would just tell us himself – stop bothering Dad every time we come up here.’

‘I wouldn’t listen to him, and nor would you,’ Miranda said, ‘it would be like betraying Dad’s trust. Anyway – what’s he going to say that we haven’t already thought of – Dad’s an ex-spy, or MI Five or on some witness protection programme? Just let Dad tell us in his own time.’

‘I suppose,’ Jason grunted. ‘I hate it when Grandfather has a go at him though – this is meant to be the one place we can relax a bit. D’you think they’ll end up sparring again?’

‘I should think so but Dad can look after himself. Anyway, he needs someone good to train against. We don’t really push him.’

‘Speak for yourself, girlie,’ Jason barged his sister out onto the second floor as they passed it. He ducked as she threw a punch at his head.

They clattered down the stone steps into the still deserted reception area. Their cases lay where they’d left them. Despite running Mawn as an exclusive retreat for writers, walkers and anyone else seeking to escape from everyday life, Grandfather didn’t go a bundle on customer service.

Miranda wrinkled her nose. ‘Sod the unpacking, let’s go to the village.’

Jason groaned, looking out through narrow windows. ‘But it’s pouring down.’

‘We’re on Mawn - what do you expect?’ Miranda said.

‘Nothing will be open,’ Jason mumbled, pressing his face against the cold glass and misting it up.

‘You want to stay here and wait for them to finish arguing?’ Miranda said, reaching for a bright yellow oilskin coat and hat hanging on the ‘for guest use’ hooks on one wall.

Jason shrugged but turned away from the window. ‘Mmm, attractive,’ he said, nodding appraisingly at her.

‘Mmm, dry,’ Miranda said.

Jason grabbed some waterproofs down for himself. ‘That’s a very practical, un-Barbie thing to say, Sis.’

She ignored him and pulled open the front doors then shrieked as a wall of freezing rain burst in.

Jason shoved her out and they both crossed the bridge then started up the hill leading to the village in the next dip. They trudged resolutely passed a small stable block. They were both excellent riders but taking out a couple of horses now would mean at least an hour’s rubbing down and grooming afterwards.

About half way up the hill Jason heard the growl of Grandfather’s Land Rover. A moment later it struggled over the crest then came hurtling down towards them, veering from side to side on the rain-slicked track.

‘Run for it,’ Jason shouted, scrambling into the heather above the road. ‘Quick, Old Duncan won’t stop until he feels your head crunch.’

Miranda followed him, without the dramatics. ‘He’s got the latecomer with him, hasn’t he?’ she said, trying to peer through the rain streaked, misted up windscreen.

‘Looks like it… easier to see if Duncan understood new technology like de-mister switches.’

‘Oh goodie – someone apart from Grandfather for me to play with at dinner.’ Miranda waved, smiling brightly with rain running down her face.

Old Duncan crashed the gears and roared passed without a sideways glance. They hadn’t been able to make out the new guest at all.

Jason pushed his still-waving sister back down towards the track. ‘He won’t fancy you looking like that, whoever he is,’ he said, nodding at her shapeless yellow oilskins and wide-brimmed hat flopping down over her straggly wet hair.

‘Well, there's a small chance I might have something I could change into for dinner.’

‘Change into what - a half-decent sister maybe…?’

‘…and you’ve said that one how many times now?’ Miranda shook her head at him then jumped back down onto the road.

They resumed their wet trudge up the hill, Miranda falling quiet for once. Jason chewed his lip - quiet meant she was either worried about something or plotting. Finally she spoke.

‘Will you be asking Laura back to the castle for dinner tonight?’

Plotting then, obviously.

Jason just shrugged. He knew he should never have told his sister about fancying Laura McKenzie a couple of years ago.

‘Well?’ Miranda nudged him.

‘I was only a kid when I… had a thing for her,’ he mumbled.

‘And now you’re sooo grown-up at the grand old age of sixteen.’

Jason shook his head. He didn’t really want to get into this. ‘There isn’t any room in our messed-up lives for anyone else is there? Why bother getting to know someone properly when we’ll completely disappear from their lives sooner or later?’

‘It’ll get better again. We used to stay put for two or three years when we were…’

‘Plus,’ Jason cut in, ‘we can barely keep ourselves safe – we can’t afford to care about anyone else.’

Miranda took in a slow breath which meant she was holding back an argument… or a body blow.

‘You know,’ she said finally, ‘your life is going to be very lonely if you keep thinking like that.’

Jason looked away from her searching, concerned-big-sister gaze and lost himself in the starkly beautiful island. He wasn’t going to let depression get him – it made you weak for one thing. For another, it was really boring.

He shrugged and turned back to his sister. ‘Not that lonely – I've still got you to play with.’

Miranda smiled. ‘Yeah, but I’m bored of you. We need to bring in some fresh blood. Now, back to Laura…’

Jason groaned but let her witter on with a relentless storm of advice as they walked. Even though he kept his head-down and only mumbled nonsense in reply, the chatting-up and importance of relationships lesson didn’t stop until they reached Mawn’s one and only village.

It was almost six o’clock and the place was deserted. At least the rain had eased off to a drizzle.

‘Don’t you just hate rush hour?’ Miranda asked.

‘Shall we see if The Star’s open?’ Jason mumbled, trying to push back his dripping hair into some sort of order beneath the hood.

‘Oooh, now let me think…’ Miranda said, ‘there are so many other hot nightclubs we could try instead… oh go on then – the Star it is.’

Jason started forward, his heart threatening to thud through his chest. The Northern Star was Mawn’s only pub. It had a ‘family room’ where Les, the landlord, let the island’s youth hang out, play pool, eat crisps and drink Irn-Bru or Coke. If Laura was out anywhere this wet Saturday afternoon, it would be in the Star.

They pushed on past Mary Moore’s general store/bakery/post office/chemist with its old bay windows then stopped.

‘Typical,’ Jason said, staring at a scribbled note, placed inside a plastic bag and hung by string from the Star’s main door.

Open at 7 for the footy

‘I’m not hanging around for an hour,’ Miranda said.

‘Straight back to the castle, then,’ Jason mumbled and began to walk. ‘Whose master-plan was this?’

They were a full mile out of the village before he realised they were being watched.

CHAPTER 3

A single silhouette, a man, waited on the hilltop two hundred metres ahead of them, a long coat billowing out and a bushman’s hat pulled low over his face. Ragged strips of cloud whipped across the darkening sky behind him.

‘Looks like a highwayman who’s lost his horse,’ Jason said, glancing across at Miranda.

‘I don’t like this,’ she said quietly.

‘Don’t be daft, Sis – it’s probably that new guest, looking to get a pint in before dinner.’

Miranda tugged Jason off the track and started marching off through the heather. ‘Dinner’s in less than an hour – he’d hardly have time to drink it. Come on, we’ll skirt around him.’

Jason glanced back up the hill. The stranger waved once and started to walk quickly down the track towards them.

Jason could see him more clearly now – tall, wide shouldered with the raincoat flapping open at the top to show a high necked, black jumper. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and he kept his head down so the hat brim covered his face.

‘Move,’ Miranda hissed and sped up.

‘You’re being paranoid,’ Jason began, ‘he’s heading for the village. I tell you, maybe he fancies one of Les’ grotty pies or…’

Suddenly, the man cut into the heather after them and broke into a run. He lifted up his face.

‘Oh hell,’ Miranda hissed, ‘back to the village - quick.’

Jason sprinted through the heather after her but could almost feel the stranger closing on him. He glanced back, the man was only thirty steps away now, seeming to fly across the hillside.

‘Stop – both of you. I have a gun.’ His accent was foreign, high and reedy but it cut through the wind like a fencing foil.

Jason ignored it and sped up as Miranda twisted around to check on him.

‘Get down, Jason, he’s going to shoot!’ she screamed and leapt back into his chest.

They both crashed into the heather and rolled down the hill. Miranda pushed him away so they tumbled apart, making two targets instead of one.

They twisted themselves into a fight-ready crouch virtually at the same time but the man had closed in and now aimed a pistol straight at Jason’s face.

‘Just stay where you are.’ The stranger’s voice

Reviews for Jason Willow

[garethmottram-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I wrote this so I am biased but it has lots of hard action (without magical spells to make everyone better), atmospheric locations, complicated relationships and slowly revealed powers and demons.

Real World Fantasy - Imagine a touch of the later Harry Potters mixed with Buffy/Angel, the Supernatural T.V. series. Packed full of The Matrix style martial arts and gun action, suspense and supernatural powers, the story runs through a remote Scottish island, a high-tech abbey stronghold and a hellish brewery town.

This is the First Edition which has sold out so you probably won't be able to get it. It's a lot longer than the tightly edited 2nd ed so doesn't move as fast but you do get to know the main characters better, start with an additional scene, languish in the locations a little longer and enjoy a few more subsidiary action scenes.

[kindlespots · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Jason Willow reminds me of a lot of things I love-certain types of books, certain types of movies, and even certain types of video games. We start out with Jason and Miranda Willow, teen brother and sister, who seem by all appearances to be normal teenagers. Normal, that is, if you don't count the fact that they have been on the run with their parents their entire lives, and that their mother goes down in a hail of gunfire in the opening scene.That loss forces their father, Richard Willow, to make a decision. Obviously, his protection alone is no longer enough to keep his family safe, and he begins the transition of coming more into the open and trying to find out who can be trusted. They go to the castle home of his austere father, from whom he is estranged for reasons yet to be revealed. While there, Miranda and Jason wander off alone and find themselves under attack by an unknown man. Jason and Miranda have been trained all their lives in the martial art of Jakra, and quite passably hold their own until Grandfather, Father, and the Crazy Old Caretaker arrive to take out the intruder. Jason and Miranda can't help but notice that not only do they take him out, they take him out with supernatural style!Up to this point, Richard has always refused to tell his children why they were running, but this incident eventually forces him, under duress, to begin revealing just what is going on. A large part of the story is dedicated to Richard's continuing efforts to keep the truth from his children, particularly Jason. Even when it's readily apparent that Jason literally must know the truth, Richard still resists telling him all of it. In the meantime, Richard has taken his children away from the family castle, to what he hopes is a place of safety.Alan Brash has been helping Richard find safe places to stay for twenty years. Now Richard decides to depend on Brash for more and goes to Brash's compound to stay. Brash reveals to Jason that his father was a member of a demon hunting organization called The Watch. There is another ancient group called The Brethren who enjoy calling up demons and using them to possess powerful people all over the world. The Watch is made up of people called The Gifted. The Gift is passed from gifted father to son, from gifted mother to daughter, and so on. When the Gift has passed to the eighteenth generation, that person is known as a triple six and will be more powerful than any other gifted on earth. We do find out that we really don't trust Brash, but Richard had nowhere else to turn. Turns out that Alan Brash and the Brethren as well have a lot of reasons for wanting Jason, and it isn't so that they can protect him. Before I accidentally reveal everything, I will just say that Jason is in for an interesting stay at Alan Brash's place.I said before that I love certain types of books and movies, but I also want them to have something that sets them apart from the others. That thing for me here was Jason himself. Apart from having awesome super powers, Jason is a completely normal teenaged boy, subject to pride, insecurities, hormones and sometimes just flat out stupidity. He gets flabbergasted around girls and a pretty one will lead him around by the nose with no effort. There are too many YA stories out there now where the hero (or heroine) is just too good to be true. They're smart, mature, wise, always do the right thing and are good looking enough to grace the wall of any 12 year-old's room. I do have the impression that Jason is a good looking kid, but he's annoyingly cocky, impulsive and does the wrong things-frequently. But he is also well drawn and sweet, he's good-hearted, and we pull for him with all we have. I might have been his own dearly departed mother as I shouted at him in my mind to stop being such an idiot. The important thing is, that Jason finds himself by the end and proves himself to be brave, loyal and true (and now the Blue Fairy will appear and make him a Real Boy).My favorite part of the book was the rip roaring, rollicking ending. Action? Man, yes! As I rapidly devoured this last section, I was forcibly reminded of Indiana Jones and The Raiders of the Lost Ark, where scores of wonderfully disposable Nazis just keep pouring out of nowhere to be mowed down by whatever Indie and company can throw at them. Jason and our other heroes come out badly scathed, and some of them do not come out at all-but mainly, they live to fight another day...and now, on to the sequel!