Witch Please: Monster Marshals

By Danielle Parker

Nolan Payne needed a new job. That last near-death experience was a doozy. He'd managed to survive with a few broken bones and some new nightmare fuel, but it was time for a career change before the insanity stuck. Enter the strangest Fed-type he'd ever met to offer him a job in a weird secret government organization. 

The money's good and getting to introduce himself as a monster hunter isn't so bad either. 

Nolan jumped at the chance without really knowing what he was getting himself into. Ancient secrets, identity revelations, a new partner with an interesting past - it's one punch after the other. His first assignment brings it all into focus. 

Wacky weather problems, a domestic dispute, and a cursed witch. 

All in a day's work.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Danielle Parker
• Release date: Nov 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393002383

Book preview

1

Rapid Descent

They entered the cave system well after the sun had set. A fresh discovery by a drone, one that Arkwright wanted searched post haste. They didn’t care much about the time of day that got done, or how much more dangerous that choice could make such a thing.

Under the light of the moon, at least the sweltering heat dropped to a more tolerable temp. It’d be cold soon enough. The miserable desert couldn’t make up its mind. Hotter than hell most of the day, colder than a frog’s ass at night.

Arkwright didn’t care about any of that either, but their money was a green as any. Which was how Nolan made peace with all the buffoonery.

He swallowed down yet another sigh and grabbed at his walkie. Nuts, we’re going in the west entrance now. You and Disco stay frosty.

Roger that, Cowboy, Nuts radioed back. We’re heading in the east entrance. Going silent. Don’t get dead.

Copy.

They weren’t expecting any hostiles – Arkwright wasn’t about fighting wars – but caution was never a bad idea. A little care could mean avoiding a bullet, and he’d found that hunting for treasure or rare antiquities could make men just as crazy as war.

The flashlights attached to their vests illuminated a path ahead. Nothing special, there weren’t any stalactites, or whatever the others were called. Stalagmites, he thought, but what the hell did it matter.

The walls were all smooth, and the caves were silent, and spooky as a mausoleum, enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his beard itch.

Probably full of snakes, porcupines, and crocodiles. Nolan shuddered and held tighter to his M4. This thing have enough stopping power for a croc? Let’s not find out.

Tony ‘Brooklyn’ Antonelli followed behind him, still grumbling over the assignment under his breath. Kid signed on for war and found himself trotting the globe looking for weird historic shit. Nolan couldn’t blame him for being squirrely, but it wasn’t like they had anything better to do. If they hadn’t been tasked with exploring the cave they’d have been back in their racks, waiting and itching for something to do.

He had enough time logged in staring at the wall. At least searching some stupid cave meant they were doing something.

Hey, Cowboy, Brooklyn said. Nuts said I should ask you about prom.

I’m flattered, but I already have a date, Nolan said with an eye roll his companion couldn’t see. Of all the times for chit-chat. He swiveled his light side-to-side, sweeping the area. Something was there, he could feel it in his beard. I asked Nuts, actually. Now shut up and look for dusty shit that might be important.

Brooklyn huffed. Come on, there’s nothing in here, and I’m bored already. You always have the best stories.

There’s plenty of something in here that could kill us and you want to talk. And what do you mean bored? He paused and turned to eyeball his young companion. Brooklyn was tapping at his rifle with quick, fidgety fingers, and looking everywhere but at Nolan. Ah, you mean you’re nervous.

No way, Brooklyn said with a scowl. His fingers stilled and he raised his chin to glare up at Nolan. This is actually boring, you know? I signed up for globetrotting, adrenaline pumping action. Instead I’m running around the worst places in the world looking for artifacts, or whatever. It’s like boring Indiana Jones.

Were you expecting to punch Nazis? Look, don’t be in such a hurry to prove you’re a badass, alright? Nolan shook his head and continued forward. Damn kids all wanted reality to be like those first-person shooter games, with no concept of the value of life, real danger, or limited ammunition. This isn’t boring, not if you’re engaged like you should be.

I am engaged, that’s the problem. What’s wrong with wanting some conversation to help pass the time?

It’s a distraction. We can chat all you want later. Maybe. If there’s bourbon. You’re going to get a chance at action soon enough and I don’t think you’re going to like it. It’s not like the movies. All this tough-guy sh-

On Nolan’s next step forward something crunched under his boot. It didn’t click, so he felt confident it wasn’t a landmine – but still… He carefully shifted, trying to feel out what he was standing on. It was stiff but bowed under his weight. Not compact sand, it groaned and creaked like wood. Wood that cracked meant. . .

He froze, caught eyes with a pale-faced Brooklyn, and then the ground opened up.

The buried haphazard bridge of particle board he’d stepped on shattered. Thick splinters shaped like ragged teeth scratched him as he plummeted down a man-sized crevice. Brooklyn shouted and tried to catch him, his gloved fingers grazing Nolan’s.

Too little, too late.

God! Nolan howled, arms flapping at the air, hands slapping out against walls in a futile search for handholds. It was smooth though, a grainy sand tube, he had nothing to latch onto. Brooklyn’s shouts grew more distant. Dust and granules of sand clogged Nolan’s nose and throat. He bounced off one of the walls and then he was sliding, instead of falling, down the world’s driest waterslide.

The ride ended as abruptly as it began. He spilled out into a new abyss, and landed face first in cold dirt.

Damn it. He groaned and coughed, hands and feet stirring uselessly in the dirt. Someone send in the rodeo clowns.

His radio crackled on his chest. -owboy!

With some effort, given the weight of his gear and general state of his body at that point, he rolled onto his back and swung a limp hand to catch the walkie. Brooklyn.

-Hear you – ge – out. Hol – on, man.

Copy, copy, copy, he sent back, hoping one of those got through. Just great.

It took him a moment to sit up, aches that would later be bruises popping up all over. He rubbed at his neck with a wince. Probably whiplash. He wiggled his toes and patted at his chest, doing a quick check on everything else. Nothing felt broken, yet.

His flashlight stuttered and shut off. He sighed and toggled the switch until it blinked back on. A look up revealed the rounded top of the cavern. Tall enough for him to stand and go exploring. He struggled to his feet and turned in