Devil's Branch: Sunshine Walkingstick, #5

By Celia Roman

The thing about monsters is, they show up when you least expect it.

I come home from a romantic weekend with my feller and found one sitting on my couch. This'un wanted me to hunt down Athena's Gorgoneion, an ancient Greek amulet, and was willing to pay dearly for the work.

Meanwhile, my friend Miss Jenny went missing; her feller Proteus, a primordial Greek god, was trapped in his house by cyclops; and a hellhole opened up out on Devil's Branch.

Trouble was brewing and brewing big. Between the monsters and Greek gods popping up ever where I turned, I had my hands full, and I only knowed one way to deal with trouble: Head on and full of fight.

A Magic, Mayhem & Monsters Story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bone Diggers Press
• Release date: Nov 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781943465576

Book preview

Devil’s Branch

A Sunshine Walkingstick Novel

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Celia Roman

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Published by Bone Diggers Press, Clayton, GA.

© 2020 C.D. Watson. All Rights Reserved.

Cover © Nocturne Cover Art.

ISBN 978-1-943465-57-6

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Description of Devil’s Branch:

The thing about monsters is, they show up when you least expect it.

I come home from a romantic weekend with my feller and found one sitting on my couch. This'un wanted me to hunt down Athena's Gorgoneion, an ancient Greek amulet, and was willing to pay dearly for the work.

Meanwhile, my friend Miss Jenny went missing; her feller Proteus, a primordial Greek god, was trapped in his house by cyclops; and a hellhole opened up out on Devil's Branch.

Trouble was brewing and brewing big. Between the monsters and Greek gods popping up ever where I turned, I had my hands full, and I only knowed one way to deal with trouble: Head on and full of fight.

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More by Celia Roman

Sunshine Walkingstick Series

Hunter

Greenwood Cove

The Deep Wood

Cemetery Hill

Witch Hollow

Devil’s Branch

Vampire Alley

Omnibus (Books 1, 2, and 3)

Kaya Fox Series

A Vision in Death

Vanessa Kinley, Witch PI Series

The Single Witch’s Guide to Online Dating

Between a Witch and a Hard Place

A Witch and Her Familiar

Black Witch Rising

A Witch Called Justice

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License Notes: This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It 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, please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Chapter One

I pulled two letters outta my mailbox, one from David Eckstrom, t’other from Mama. Mama’s I expected. She wrote from prison a coupla times a month, give or take, so I got them right regular. Bless her, I was about the only visitor she had, unless Fame or the boys took the time from their extralegal enterprises to run to the state prison down in Alto to see her.

David’s letter was a smidge of a surprise. Last I heard, and I talked to him nigh on ever week, he was hopping around Europe, running from a heartache. I shook my head and slapped the mailbox shut. ‘Twas a shame, what his ex-boyfriend Gregory done, but you ask me, David shoulda forgive him and took him back. There was still love there, in David’s heart. I seen it in his expression ever time the subject come up.

Oh, well. Some breaks never mend and a body’s pride just got in the way of all that anyhow. I should know. I’d about let my hurt pride get in between me and Riley.

I tapped the corner of David’s letter against Mama’s, sore tempted to open it on the spot and see what he was up to.

Right then, a stiff March wind scooped down among the trees into the gap cut by the road and blowed right down the neck of my jacket. I shivered and hopped into Daddy’s IROC, outta the chill wind, and tossed the letters onto the passenger’s seat next to a backpack full of dirty clothes. Me and Riley’d spent a long weekend up in Boone, skiing our little hearts out. Just got back last night, well after church done let out.

Let me tell you, his mama weren’t none too happy about it neither. I was nigh on certain it weren’t missing church she was fussing about so much as us missing the weekly after-church dinner at her house.

Anyhow, me and Riley had a high ol’ time in Boone, hitting the slopes by day, snuggling up next to each other in front of a fire by night. It was about the most romantic weekend I ever had, and I weren’t sorry for missing church.

Maybe I was a little sorry for missing the meal, even if it meant breaking bread with Riley’s daddy, my uncle Fame’s sworn enemy. Getting Anne all het up, now, that was a different story. I hated doing that, but I’d make it up to her ‘long and along, just you wait and see.

I steered the IROC up the rutted driveway toward home, made a mental note to get the road graded again soon as winter let go of the mountains for good. Spring was right around the corner, promised in the hints of warm afternoons and budding trees, but I didn’t have no time to muse on spring’s potential. Soon as I topped the rise leading up to my roost, I seen an unfamiliar car sitting in the driveway and all the happy deflated outta me like air spurting out of a stuck balloon.

Well, dang. There went my Monday morning laundry date.

I let the IROC idle up the rest of the rutted drive, goosing the engine ever once in a while to keep it going as I studied the car. Now, I didn’t know diddly about cars, but some ever body with at least one good eye knowed. This’un was a Porsche 911, so brand-spanking new it still sported the dealer’s tag. Not a scratch marred the glossy gray finish. I could near about smell the interior’s new car scent from here, closed windows and all.

How in tarnation did somebody get that low-slung thing up my rutted driveway? I shook my head. That weren’t the right question a’tall. I shoulda been asking what troubles pushed somebody to bring a car like that into the boonies of northeast Georgia. The only troubles I could think of was mighty bad indeed.

Dang it all. I’d just got the hang of this vacation thing, too.

I sighed as I parked the IROC and switched off the engine, then got out and trotted across the parking area, up the stairs, and through the trailer’s front door into the living room. A sight greeted my eyes. There on my worn-out couch sat Nora Vargas, my newly acquired witch friend, right next to a stiff-spined woman wearing a cream-colored wool pants suit.

She about screamed old money, did this stranger, but that weren’t what caught my eyes. Nope, indeedy do. What snagged my attention was the black scarf wrapped around her hair, turban style. Sure, I’d seen a woman wearing one of them turban things before. That was all fine, well, and good. It was the way it shifted ever once in a while, like something was living under there.

That tingly feeling deep in my gut jangled and a voice stirred in the back of my mind, almost like it was yawning to life. Oh, yeah, there was something going on here. I just needed to figure out what.

If company hadn’t been sitting on my couch, I woulda rubbed my palms together and grinned. I sure did love me a good mystery.

Nora stood and smiled at me, and my gaze sharpened on her. My friend was average height and curvy in the way of a woman who was well-built and knowed it. Even in her sorry state, what with still healing from the knock down drag out we got into with the rest of her coven about a month back, she looked like she just stepped outta her office into my living room, she was so well put together.

But her brown eyes was pinched together in a worried frown so slight you’da missed it if you didn’t know her. I got the feeling she weren’t quite comfortable with the woman sitting on t’other end of my couch.

‘Course, if my gut was to be believed, Nora had ever right not to be comfortable around our visitor, no matter how rich and snooty she looked.

Nora smoothed the palms of her hands down her jean-clad thighs, then gestured toward the woman. Sunshine, this is Euryale. She heard I was friends with you and reached out to me in the hopes of procuring an introduction.

I bit back my first remark, which likened that load of codswallop to a bucket of horse manure. We been real careful to keep Nora’s whereabouts on the down low, what with her being wanted by the brothers of a powerful sorceress, now deader’n last century’s doorknob. Rumor was bound to leak out. This was the South, the small-town rural South at that. Folks thrived on other folks’ business, always had, always would. But the kinda friends what’d pass them rumors along to this Euryale weren’t the kinda folks living in the backwoods of Persimmon, Georgia.

I tucked my curiosity away and, since there weren’t nothing for it but to dig up a teaspoon of polite, I stuck my hand out. How do, Miss Euryale. Pleased to meetcha.

She stood, unfolding herself in the same way as Missy, all graceful and elegant, and touched her gloved fingers to mine. Charmed. I heard you had an uncanny ability to locate mystical objects.

I let my hand drop away from hers and let that grin out as I tucked both hands in the back pockets of my jeans. Weren’t nothing on Earth like a body what got straight down to business. Saved a truckload of time all the way around.

Don’t know about that, Miss Euryale, I said, but I sure do know how to track down monsters.

The skin around her eyes tightened almost imperceptibly.

Nora sucked in a breath and near about choked on it. Euryale is looking for an ancient Greek artifact known as the Gorgoneion.

My grinned widened, baring a few more teeth than was absolutely necessary. You looked in a museum?

It was lost a millennium ago, Euryale said stiffly, and right about then, I put my finger on why she seemed so familiar. It was the feel of her, not her looks, and I knowed exactly where I’d got that feeling before.

You wouldn’t happen to know a guy by the name of Abercio Okeanos, wouldja? Goes by the name of Teus, I said. Short for Proteus. You know, the Greek demigod?

Primordial god, she said and her eyes slid to Nora. I was led to believe she was the best.

Nope, I said, cheerful like. What you want with this Gorgony thingamajig?

Gorgoneion, Nora said faintly. It’s a family heirloom of sorts.

I eyed my friend real good. Looked like she’d seen a ghost and it’d scared about ten lives outta her. You’d best get you some water real quick like, Nora, before you faint or something.

Coffee, she said, like she was grasping at a lifeline. She sure hopped into the kitchen fast enough.

I turned back to the woman who almost certainly weren’t a woman a’tall. Just so you know, I’m used to killing monsters, not inviting ‘em to sit down to breakfast at the kitchen table.

Sunny, Nora hissed, but Euryale just smiled.

Sure, it was a thin smile, but sometimes you took what the good Lord seen fit to give you.

Propaganda from the twisted minds of insecure men, Euryale said. Time is of the essence, Miss Walkingstick.

Oh, ain’t it always.

But didn’t that just about jibe with what Chef Eros said at the F.A.I.T.H. Sweetheart Dance a coupla weeks back? At least, it jibed with the worry what’d rolled off of him.

I sighed and shrugged a shoulder toward the kitchen table. C’mon, then. Have a seat. You can tell me all about this family heirloom while me and Nora whip up some vittles.

Euryale’s expression stiffened. I’d just as soon stand, if you don’t mind. As I said. Time is of the essence.

Well, time is gonna pass just the same whether we’re comfortable or not, ain’t it? Her expression changed not a whit, so I give up with a sigh. Whatever floated her boat. What’s so all fired important about this whatsit you’re looking for?

A Gorgoneion is a protective amulet depicting the image of a Gorgon.

My gut tightened on that last word. Like Medusa.

Euryale’s mouth spread into a wicked grin and her eyes deepened to a sparkling midnight blue. Medusa was not the only Gorgon, but yes, like her. This particular Gorgoneion is rumored to have been worn by Athena.

A coffee cup clattered onto the counter. A beat later, it shattered on the worn linoleum floor. I risked a peek at Nora over one shoulder. You ok back there?

Fine, fine, Nora said as she squatted and started swiping at the ceramic shards littering the floor.

She didn’t sound fine exactly, but she seemed ok right then, so I turned back to our unexpected guest. Let me guess. Athena is alive and well and on her way to northeast Georgia right now like the rest of them Greek gods.

Euryale arched an elegant black eyebrow.

Hard to miss how you didn’t blink an eyelid when I got Teus’s nature wrong. I shrugged. And I run into Eros not long back. It kindly follows that if they’s around, Athena’s still kicking, too. What I’m real curious about is exactly who you are and why you showed up on my stoop.

I, Euryale said, am the woman who’s willing to pay you a small fortune to locate and retrieve Athena’s Gorgoneion on my behalf.

That’s what worries me. I hitched a thumb over my shoulder at Nora. Me and my partner here’s gotta chat it out. You got a business card or something?

Miss Vargas knows very well how to contact me, but if you insist. She flipped her hand and out popped a business card, almost as if she conjured it outta thin air. That turban shifted again, like little fingers was poking against the fabric. Do not make me wait long.

I had ever intention of making her wait as long as I needed to, but weren’t no need to spit that tidbit out. Instead, I held my hand out to her, took the business card and touched fingers with her real polite like. I even went so far as to open the door for her on her way out.

Soon as I shut the door behind her, I whirled around and eyed Nora, who was standing at the trash can dropping pieces of broke coffee mug into it.

So, I said. Didn’t Medusa have two immortal sisters?

Nora’s hands went limp and there the remnants of a coffee mug went, right into the trash. Yes. That was one of them.

Hunh. And yet we’re still alive and breathing.

Her gaze only works on men. So I’ve heard.

Seems to me you’ve heard a mite more’n I have.

Nora sighed and brushed her fingers together over the trash can. My patron goddess is Greek.

Hecate.

Mm-hmm. And I majored in the classics. Greek, Latin, mythology. Her voice lowered as she turned away from me toward the kitchen counter, so I almost missed the rest of what she said. At least, I thought it was mythology.

Yeah, I’d thought that once, too, before my baby boy got killed and I learnt that some monsters is real. A faint pang of sorrow tugged at my heart, and was gone again before it took root.

Which reminded me. I owed Nora for more’n helping to get them kids back to their parents.

You sit on down for a spell and I’ll whip up some breakfast, I said, real gentle. Go on now. I’ll clean up that coffee cup, too. Let me wash up first, all right?

Sure, she said, and I could just about see the relief wafting outta her.

That relief’d be short lived. Much as I liked her, much as I wanted to protect her, Nora Vargas had some knowledge stored up in her noggin that I needed right then. I hated having to prod her, but if it kept an ancient monster from coming after me and mine, then prod I would, especially since me and mine included her, too.

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I slipped outta the kitchen into the hallway and from there to my bedroom, located at one end of the trailer. One thing I knowed for certain. It was about time for me to roust ‘ol Teus and cajole some whatnots and wherefores outta that handsome hide of his.

Soon as I hit the bathroom and shut the door behind me, I stuck my hand up my shirt and cupped my left breast, right over them servant marks he magicked onto my skin a few months back. Well, technically there was a bra between my hand and them marks, but I figured that was good enough. I closed my eyes and concentrated real hard on Teus, building his image up from them midnight eyes, so beautiful framed by black eyelashes, and out from there.

When I had that image firm in my mind, I said, Teus, you there?

I waited for that tingly feeling to engulf me, like I was being taken apart molecule by molecule, and got diddly squat. Tried again and nope, nothing. I cracked an eyelid just to be sure, and there I was, staring back at myself from the mirror hanging crooked as a dog’s hind leg over the bathroom sink.

Ok, maybe having that bra in between weren’t good enough.

I sighed and