A Warlock's Storm: The Order of the Black Oak - Stories, #1

By Marie-Claude Bourque

A WARLOCK'S STORM: A Seasoned Urban Fantasy Romance
Meet the Order of the Black Oak: a powerful order of modern-day warriors fighting evil to protect the ones they love.

When rugged warlock turned fisherman Reynolds Stanford finds himself stranded in a haunted New England harbor at the approach of a powerful tropical storm, he must battle more than sea monsters and revenants. The gorgeous female panther shifter sent to help him by his family is tugging emotions buried deep within his soul and he fears that while he might survive the night from the deadly assault on his ship, he may very well end-up losing his heart.

If you love loyal tough guys with hearts, satisfying slow-burn paranormal romance and safe Happily Ever Afters, the Black Oak World is for you.

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️⭐️  Fantastic series of action, magic and awesome romance. You will fall in love with the characters and feel you are right with them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sea Storm Publishing
• Release date: Jan 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781733503587

Book preview

Chapter 1

Aboard the Skyrunner, New England Coast

August, present time

Reynolds Stanford stared at the sea monster that had landed on the deck of his trawler the moment he'd decided to set anchor in Devil Eye Cove. He clenched his jaw and tapped the butt of his harpoon on the steel deck.

Dammit. He was ready to ride the incoming storm, but he hadn't counted on fighting something as weird as this strange creature. A few ghosts maybe, but nothing like the creepy bastard staring at him with glossy round eyes.

Rey had grown up surrounded by tales and legends describing every demon and beast walking the earth and beyond, but this particular one failed his memory. The odd foe squatting at the bow of the Skyrunner, looked as if two animals had merged into one—the front a tall and vicious stag with huge sharp antlers that tried to skewer Rey every time he went near it and the back some kind of arachnid with a curved scorpion tail tipped with a deadly stinger.

Steadying his weapon with both hands, Rey poked at the beast hoping to push it off the deck.

The sea monster countered with a warning bark that reverberated loudly in the approaching dusk. It swiftly lashed out with a flash of its long sectioned tail.

Hells. What now. Rey's heart battered in his chest as he rammed himself backward as far as he could from the nasty sting.

This was one of the few times when he wished he hadn't turned his back on his magical legacy. After twenty years, now that he needed one, no spell came to mind.

Get off my deck, you freak. Rey gritted his teeth—anger replacing his initial irritation—and took a watchful step forward. He had to drop anchor before the weather turned worse.

And it was bad already. He glanced up at the clouds racing in across the sky. The rigging whistled and the boat’s flags snapped in the strong winds.

The hurricane that had made landfall earlier in the Florida Panhandle had unexpectedly veered toward the New England Coast and a tropical storm was expected to hit Rey in the next few hours. He had no choice but to shelter in the ominous cove for the next couple of nights.

And now an unnatural beast was blocking Rey's path to the anchor. The sea monster not happy to have been provoked.

It bashed the deck with its front hoofs and grunted loudly, its spiky tail looming high above. It bared its teeth in a twisted grin. Its nostrils flared in fury.

Rey jumped back again just in time, avoiding getting knocked off by a menacing cloven foot. He secured his balance on the rocking deck. Hells, the last thing he needed now was to go overboard.

There was no one around for miles. He had headed to a new fishing spot in the morning, expecting some rough weather but nothing like this lethal change in the hurricane’s path. He’d been caught off guard when the advisory had been called over the radio just before he’d been ready to throw out his trawl.

No one in their right mind would shelter in this secluded lone bay. Said to be haunted by revenants and wraiths it was a perfect circle cut in a stone cliff. Its deep depth allowed for one tiny beach dead ahead at the bottom of a hill covered in thick tall pines.

Despite the winds battling his boat high above, wisps of eerie kelp-green clouds hovered low on the water. They were tumbling and rolling in the gray caps of the rough waves around him. Low-pitch wails seemed to arise along with them and evoked a shudder down his spine.

Still, the gloomy but sheltered cove was the ideal place to weather the storm. He would drop anchor close to shore, put his feet up below with a couple of rums. Reminisce on the many reasons why he was still single and on his own at forty-two.

The idea of encountering ghosts didn't bother him. Even if he'd reneged it all, his family legacy ensured that he was comfortable with the otherworldly. In fact, he might learn a thing or two from a lone wandering ghost.

His self-imposed solitude made Rey grumpy at times. Particularly in the summer when out-of-towners packed the Norwich Haven marina. Tourists often bothered his quiet night ashore to ask if they could come aboard and visit the boat.

Damn summer people. Especially those newlyweds.

He could always tell. The bride unable to stop looking at her big ring, her hand always carefully manicured. The groom holding her possessively as if he'd scored some priceless bounty.

Right. He repressed the mounting pain at the back of his throat.

He could have been that possessive groom once. But Ella had never shown. Leaving him there alone, like a dumbass, trying to keep a brave face for his friends and family while his gut silently screamed his agony of being jilted at the altar.

With a stiff posture, Rey roughly pushed away the sore memory to stare back at the bizarre sea monster sitting with its slippery body on his anchor line. He raked the dull end of his fishing spear on the deck with a sigh. How would he get rid of that thing?

While he hadn't minded a possible ghost encounter, this freaky beast could cost him his boat.

He glanced up at the darkening sky. The canopy of rolling clouds was getting thicker. Swelling waves made his stance precarious. He had to secure the Skyrunner, and soon.

He poked at the weird creature once more.

The thing bucked forward and this time, the point of an antler brushed Rey's skin and sliced through his bare upper arm.

Shit. Pain lanced to his side. The thin wound started to bleed.

Come on, ghostbrain, he shouted, sorely aware of the futility of his call. Get off my freakin' boat.

He took a loose defensive stance, and guarding himself with the harpoon, wondered what to do. One solution would be to rev the engine and reposition the boat to slide the beast off with a couple of steep rolls. The waves were choppy enough that if he pointed the bow just right, it might dislodge the monster overboard.

Damn this. He should just run back to the cabin and get some salt. It usually did the trick with otherworldly nasties.

He peeked at the cut on his upper arm. Blood seeped into his t-shirt. He'll have to deal with this later.

Yep. Salt. That'll do it. He shot one more look at the stubborn monster before marching along the narrow deck alongside the wheelhouse and down to the main cabin.

The thing wouldn't stir, he grumbled to himself. He didn't need another injury. That sinister tail on the animal was worrisome. For all he knew, it was likely venomous and would kill him.

Here lay Reynolds Stanford, cousin of the Honorable Charles Stanford, the seaport society would say. And—they might add in hushed whispers—second cousin, once removed, to Diesel Stanford, Leader of the Order of the Black Oak.

It didn't matter how much Rey neglected them, he would never escape family.

With a huff, he rummaged the cupboard of his cabin for a few containers of salt.

Yes, sure, it was handy to know how to repel sea monsters. But Rey hated all the trappings that had come from his magical legacy. All of it. The spells and the rituals. The secrets and the manipulations.

Curse them all.

He shrugged his tensed neck to push the nasty feelings away, but his chest thickened as painful memories wouldn't budge from his brain.

Ella had been a hedge witch. A gorgeous ensnaring bitch of a woman. She’d gotten Rey so in love with her that he’d failed to see that all she wanted was to align herself with his powerful family. Increase her mystical powers.

Once bitten, twice shy. He would never let someone get that close again.

The Stanford name had been a jinx. A legacy that had started centuries ago—when their ancestors had met a persecuted witch from the north who'd revealed her secrets under a wide black oak tree—and which was now their burden in modern days. He'd been much better off once he'd distanced himself entirely from the magic. Away from the conniving cheats looming around the warlocks.

He let out a deep sharp exhale and seized a canister of salt in a steady grip. Stop whining, man. The past was the past and would remain there. Focus on the now. Get rid of that uninvited guest and settle in to weather the storm. Maybe he’d have a chance to check that engine below that needed a couple of screws changed instead of filling his head with useless memories.

He climbed the ladder back to the main deck. He was setting his foot on the last step when a chilling bark echoed in the air.

Oh hells. He gulped at what was facing him.

Not one, but three sea monsters lay on the back deck blocking his way.

His original foe had scurried to the stern while Rey was getting salt and was now flanked by two similar companions. The one to the left had a much shorter rack of antlers but its scorpion tail was weighty and longer. The other sea monster had the same scorpion-stag anatomy as the other two but was covered in thick slimy fish scales.

Rey blinked at their contorted silhouettes hostilely wiggling against the red disk of the setting sun peeking through the building clouds low on the horizon.

Son of a bitch. No time to wait. He pried open the container of salt and flung some at the tall-tailed beast on the left.

The animal barked a horrible sound. Its tail rippled in an ominous shudder. But it slowly retreated back, slithering on its arthropod hind