Talisman: The Wolf Stone Saga, #0

By J.D. Oliva

One family's greatest secret has been unleashed. 

 

Five years after the death of her husband, Danielle Greywolf wanted a fresh start with her five-year-old daughter, Jennifer. While moving into their new house, Jennifer finds mysterious talisman that once belonged to her father. Terrified, Danielle wrestles the object from the child who accidentally channels a mystical blast that nearly destroys their new home. A mother's worst nightmare has come true -- Jennifer has inherited the same supernatural abilities that made her father a superhero.

Danielle tries to to get rid of the talisman, but its awaking energy draws the attention of a super-powered killer-- the same man who murdered her husband. When the mysterious Stranger arrives in town, he demands the artifact and takes Jennifer as collateral. Now Danielle must team up her late-husband's former partner to retrieve the talisman before he unleashes a terrifying secret on mankind.

Can one young mother rise to defend the planet?

 

TALISMAN is the electrifying prequel to The Wolf Stone Saga. If you like spectacular superpowers, explosive battles, and terrifying villains, then you'll love this epic tale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.D. Oliva
• Release date: May 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201164782

Book preview

MR. DILLON

May 7th, 2005

The city

The old man had just about enough of the amulet. The damned thing had been with him so long, he'd almost forgotten how he'd gotten it to begin with. Of course, that was a lie. The old man would always remember the card game in El Paso. Back then, a different strange old man had so much confidence in three kings he dropped the peculiar little necklace atop the ante. He certainly didn't see ol' Johnny Carver's four queens. Not that Carver had any clue what to do with it either. The old man, who called himself Dillon, stuck his knife into Johnny Carver's back. He didn't win the hand, but he did win the prize.

Dillon had the amulet ever since. What he didn't expect were the side effects the canary-colored gem would give him. Those side effects, those special powers, are why it was so easy to forget how long Mr. Dillon had the amulet. A hundred fifty years, if it was a day. But the time for playing cheap wizard games had come to an end. Now, Mr. Dillon had to relieve himself of the amulet before he came and collected it.

A traveler warned Mr. Dillon years ago that someday a man would come looking for the yellow stone of snakes, as Mr. Dillon came to call it. Not that Mr. Dillon ever believed the story. Not until he met that man in Canyon, Texas. Mr. Dillon had been on the run ever since. Chicago seemed as good a place as any to lose the damned thing.

Mr. Dillon had no idea if he could physically survive without his old friend, the yellow stone of snakes, but he'd lived more than enough lifetimes and was ready to meet his maker. So, why not try to make a few bucks on it? He thought about putting it on the eBay, but computers were a kind of magic Dillon couldn't wrap his head around. Pure cash was better.

Mr. Dillon, the old man with a slight hunch near his left shoulder that left his 5’8 frame looking closer to 5’3, stepped out of the taxicab. The corneas of his eyes had yellowed, much like his constant companion.

Mr. Dillon licked his rotten brown teeth as he stood outside a pawn shop on Chicago's South Side, in a forgotten little neighborhood called Roseland. No one would ever think to look for an old cowboy like him in these parts.

Mr. Dillon opened the front door, setting off a bell alerting everyone in the shop that someone new had arrived. Of course, there were only three other people inside. Not unexpected late at night in this neighborhood.

A fifty-something black man with muscular forearms and a belly that started poking over his beltline stood behind the counter.

Are you Ike? Mr. Dillon asked, curling his lip with the hard K sound.

That depends. Who the hell are you?

Name's Dillon. I have some wares that I think you might be interested in, I reckon.

You reckon? Ike repeated, not sure if he was being put on.

Oh, I do reckon. I do indeed, Dillon smiled a mouth of semi-brown teeth.

Ike shuddered, but business was business. He carefully walked to the other end of the glass counter and motioned for the strange old man to come closer. The stench wafting off the old man was overpowering and nearly buckled Ike's knees. The old man smelled like mothballs and vomit.

Ike coughed and tried to speak without breathing through his nose, but he tasted whatever permeated off Mr. Dillon's skin. Watchu got, old man?

Oh, Mr. Ike, I got something real special for you! Mr. Dillon turned and grimaced toward an athletically-built woman watching this crazy old man with dagger eyes.

It's okay, Miss Crissy. I got this. Ike waved the concerned woman off.

She clearly didn't like the look of any of this, but nodded her head and slowly shuffled her way out of Ike's Pawn Shop on 95th and Michigan Avenue. This particular street corner was so far south of downtown, it might as well have been on a different planet.

As soon as Miss Crissy left the shop, Mr. Dillon's sardonic smile crept back over his face, like a fleshy Crypt Keeper. The old man opened his coat, and a strange yellow glow emanated from the interior pocket of the decades' old suit jacket.

What the hell? Ike murmured.

Not quite, Dillon chuckled as he pulled the source from his pocket. Bound to an old chain, like a pocket watch, three ouroboros snakes encircled and secured a shimmering yellow gem.

I repeat. What the hell is that?

This is something very special, Mr. Ike. Mr. Dillon gently swung the amulet like a pendulum, almost like he was trying to hypnotize Ike with the ethereal glow swaying back and forth. Ike raised an eyebrow, unsure of what any of this meant.

I dunno why I'm asking this, but how much you want for it?

Price? This is the definition of priceless!

Then I ain't interested.

Huh? That was a response Mr. Dillon didn't expect. But look at it! You can't put a price tag on an item such as this!

That's my problem. How'm I supposed to sell something if I ain't know what it is? Besides, that thing could be worth millions, but that don't mean people around can afford it. I can't buy stuff I can't sell, and there ain't no way I can sell whatever that is.

Mr. Dillon shook his head. He couldn't believe the shortsightedness of this pawnbroker.

You don't understand. It's magic. Mr. Dillon snapped the fingers of his free hand, and the shop lights dimmed. Ike reached for his hip, but an old card sharp like Dillon recognized the motion and tried to assuage the pawnbroker. A strange yellow light burst out from the center of the gem. Three beams raced across the store before meeting in the middle and taking the form of the circling ouroboros. Instead of being locked in steel, these serpents of light continuously chased each other's tails. Mr. Dillon smiled at his rather simple act of sorcery.

Ike stared at the simple light show, slack-jawed. He blinked a few times before turning back to Mr. Dillon, who asked, "What's she worth