Pomela's Revenge: The Skin Walker Series

By Kyla Stan

They believed that evil was vanquished…until they unleashed the Death Goddess.

 

 

After the war with Manitou, Violet Poet-Tongue is now an honored member of the Skin Walker pack alongside Tohon, the warrior alpha who bit her. She is celebrated among her new people and claimed a hero, but Violet senses something dark within the wilderness, an unspeakable evil that grows stronger every day.

 

Then on a cold winter morning, Queen Kamaria of the Bastet Clan, Tohon's mother, arrives with members of her pack, including a feisty daughter named Hila, and Tafari, a wise shaman. They seek shelter after facing the perils of their homeland. But Violet also learns the Bastets had a vision of Pomela, Goddess of Death, and she desires to kill all Animal Children using ancient earthen spirits called Primordials. To make matters even more complicated, Kamaria has secrets about her magick she won't reveal, causing tension between Violet and the Bastets.

 

Violet and Tohon must face ancient monsters and magickal secrets, but can they stop Pomela while forming an alliance with the Bastet Clan? Filled with Native American mythology and dark fantasy elements, Pomela's Revenge is the second novel of the Skin Walker Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kyla Stan
• Release date: Nov 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201659578

Book preview

Pomela’s Revenge

The Skin Walker Series Book II

by Kyla Stan

Copyright 2021 by Kyla Stan

All rights reserved.

Cover design by author.

Back cover design by author.

Salmon Spirit font created by Maria Zebroff, creativemarket.com

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This ebook, illustrations or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book is available in print and online at most online retailers.

To those who continue to support my writing journey.

Thank you for believing in me.

Table Of Contents

Copyright Page

Dedication

Prologue

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

Epilogue

Author’s Note

About The Author

More Books!

Forbidden Tides Sample

Prologue

After the Battle with Manitou, Midnight

Death’s stench and aura lingered across the snow-laden battlefield. Charred human remains were scattered along the forest’s edge. The Owl Women shivered in the trees above, their black feathers ruffling against one another as they peered down at the field. Olga, the oldest crone, swooped down and bid her sisters to follow. The other two sisters landed a few feet away, and all three stared at the ashen remains of Manitou, shaking their heads in shame. They immediately sensed it; a foulness still lingered at the core of this earthen grave where he died, now a black stain upon the land.

Poor Manitou, Izma croaked, the youngest Owl Woman. Her scrawny body trembled as she crossed her winged arms and kept her vision fixed on the remains. He was a good little human, a loyal follower of our Goddess.

Nera, the chubbiest middle sister, guffawed at her sister’s remark and scratched her talons into the frozen earth, checking for leftover scraps of human or Skin Walker flesh. Olga turned on both of her sisters, her greying feathers drooping off her wrinkled body. She raised herself on the tiptoes of her talons and stretched her neck over the naïve fledglings. The darkness corrupted him, and his pitiful human soul shriveled under our Goddess’s power. We stole his soul too young, too far...we took advantage of the seeding darkness. But he has served his purpose. The Owl Women cackled, and their shrill laughs turned into echoing hoots.

Come, sisters! Olga’s orange eyes shining with deliverance. We must start the ritual to summon our Goddess.

Izma and Nera hobbled closer to the remains near Olga’s feet and formed a circle. They extended their droopy wings, meeting each other with taloned-handed grips. Each closed their eyes and leaned their heads back, embracing the decay, the evil, and smoky remains of Manitou.

Goddess of Death, we summon you— Olga began.

—We beseech you to hear our call!

We sacrifice our life essence over your fallen spawn, Izma said.

The Owl Women separated hands and sliced their palms open with their talons. Their dark blood oozed and dripped onto Manitou’s ashes. When their blood combined, a swirling wind scattered the ashes out of existence. The Owl Women’s eyes widened, and they stepped back in revered awe. Izma cowered behind her older sisters as the Goddess manifested from their bloodshed. A swirling black form towered above them. The woodland creatures had scattered long ago, but the trees shivered as if they sensed the approaching presence. Within the smoke, Pomela, Goddess of Death and Dark Magick, emerged.

The Owl Women bowed down onto their reptilian knees and arched their beaks toward the ground. Our Goddess, Our Creator, they greeted in unison.

As Pomela approached, the Owl Women were overcome with the stench of decay and sulfur. Izma stifled a gag lest her Goddess punish her.

He was a disgrace, Pomela said, her voice a raspy whisper almost lost to the frigid breeze.

The Owl Women turned their faces up and studied their creator. Pomela’s emaciated form was covered in a long, tattered robe, darker than the sky at mid-winter and made of pure ethereal energy. Her skin was rotten and yellowed with age like bloody, burned parchment. But what frightened the Owl Women the most were her eyes, white and opaque, void of a genuine soul.

He was an apprentice, but he dared call himself the new God of Death. She tilted her head in consideration, and her dry obsidian locks swayed at her hips. The bones and feathers within her hair rattled against her curved horns. "For years, I had to scrape the remains of dead Animal Children for a meal, waiting for Manitou to bring me a living feast. He was meant to cleanse this land of those mutant creatures but failed." The last word was spat, and the Owl Women cringed at her venom.

The Goddess studied her black fingernails tinged with disease and toxins. I have been watching in the shadows of these woods, watching your progress with my apprentice. I do not blame you, my children. The Owl Women relaxed but prepared themselves for a punishment. Manitou did not possess the power needed to rid the world of Animal Children. It is up to me to cleanse this world, absorb their wretched souls and finally feast on the living. Only then will I have enough power to overthrow my Brother and become the next divine. Pomela held her palm toward the ground and summoned her staff, an ancient wooden piece dried and broken with lifeless vines surrounding the handle. She raised it to the sky, and an ominous storm brewed overhead. Roaring thunder made Izma scream, but her sisters smothered her beak in their feathers.

I summon the Chosen Four, the Primordial elements of this land: Air, Water, Fire, and Earth. Abandon the Creator and join me in conquest. Aid me in my quest to destroy the Animal Children! A burst of green magick flashed from Pomela’s staff into the sky and dispersed through the woods in a blinding explosion.

The Owl Women hesitated to stand, but Pomela beckoned them up. Rest my children. I will be watching. She waved her staff and disappeared among the shadows and smoky remnants.

Chapter 1

Flurries of snow cascaded down upon the Skin Walker alphas, and Violet’s muscles tensed in anticipation. She raised her nose to an oncoming breeze, reveling in the mixture of spicy pine and fresh snow, but she also detected the strange woman’s pheromones. Her inner wolf sensed fear and trepidation.

Tohon studied the woman, and his eyes strained to keep tears from falling. Mother?

Alongside their leader, cougars, lynxes, bobcats, and a dark-maned lion shifted into people. Violet studied the woman ahead of everyone. Once a sleek cougar, she morphed into a chocolate-skinned woman. Her piercing blue eyes shone with courage but were gentle. She adorned herself with fabrics in rich colors and patterns of African culture. An elegant crown of woven savanna grasses, vibrant feathers, and wildebeest horns adorned her tight braids. She resembled a Nubian goddess standing out of place in the frigid landscape.

My son, The woman held her arms open, and Tohon turned to Violet with uncertainty.

He studied the woman’s features for a moment before smiling. Tears raced down his cheeks as he embraced her. I thought you were dead—

I know, Tohon. But we are reunited now in bond and duty to our people. We have much to discuss. But first we must introduce ourselves. She let go of her son and nodded her head toward Violet. I am Queen Kamaria of the Bastet Clan. She turned to a large-bellied man who stepped forward and towered over everyone. This is my shaman and councilor, Tafari. His eyes were kind and wise with paternal love.

And last, Princess Hila. Kamaria stepped aside as a feral wildcat sprang forth and hissed at the strangers. This is your younger sister, Tohon. She was just a newborn cub when I left. She reminded Violet of the small vicious serval cats that stalked the African plains. Her mottled fur coat melded away as she morphed into a girl a few years younger than Violet. Hila’s skin was dark and velvety like her mother’s, and her rich golden-brown eyes sparked with energy. She flipped her coiled hair over one shoulder and acknowledged the strangers with a curt nod.

Nice to meet all of you. Violet’s voice wavered, and her eyes skimmed over Kamaria’s people. Skin Walker alpha expectations were still new, and she had just been pronounced a leader among Tohon’s people after their brutal war with Manitou. My name is Violet Poet-Tongue. You spoke of a shared purpose before. What did you mean?

Kamaria bowed her head and studied the surrounding snow at her bare feet. Her face became etched with worry that aged her features.

Tohon and Violet exchanged a brief glance. Come with us, Mother. We will talk more at my village.

Praise Bastet, thank you, son. Kamaria translated for the rest of her clan, which included about ten more individuals. As both groups merged and crunched through the freezing snow, Violet couldn’t shake the feeling of distrust. Perhaps it was something instinctual and wolfish about not allowing outsiders into her loyal group, but she tried to remain stoic as they headed home.

Violet was about to ask Tohon where their visitors would stay when a flurry of squirrels chased their feet and bit their raw ankles. Ow! Get off me! Violet tried to shake the animals loose.

Tohon picked one up by the tail and held it at arm’s distance while it chittered in anger. A cacophony of songbirds flitted through the trees, pecking and screeching at the shifters. Some newcomers shifted into their feline forms and gulped down the birds, while others swatted the little pests and punched their paws in the snow. The birds halted their attack and flitted away toward the sky. The forest became silent, and only the soft sighs of the wind through the trees filled the void. Some of the Bastet clan perked up their ears and hissed. The hair on Violet’s neck bristled, and she growled.

The underbrush crackled and crushed as a large animal stampeded through the wilderness. A bull moose charged into the open field, snorting in rage and shaking his antlers like deadly weapons. Violet remained still for a moment and studied the animal.

After living among nature for a few months, she could discern an animal’s mood, and all she sensed was pure rage. The Bastet clan screamed, afraid of the unknown beast.

Hila, NO! Kamaria screamed and clutched Tafari’s arm.

Shifting mid-air, Hila sank her fangs into the moose’s neck. With a sickening crunch, the animal collapsed into the frost. Violet’s nose twitched at the metallic smell of blood, and she suddenly pitied the beast.

Hila trotted back over to the group while the Queen’s clan prodded the moose to make sure it was dead.

Violet sighed and slapped a hand to her forehead. Well, at least we can share our first meal together.

.~.

Under Kamaria’s supervision, the Bastet clan broke down pieces of the moose and made sure to save as much of the hide for future use. The meat was carefully wrapped or carried by hand, leaving a trail of fresh blood back to the Skin Walker village. Violet constantly tried to disperse the trail by shuffling the snow.

Tohon smiled at her efforts. You worry too much, my love.

Violet snorted and blew her bangs back. No, you’re too trusting.

Tohon stopped and pulled her aside while the Bastets trudged through the snow. What do you mean? Kamaria is my mother. These people are part of my family.

How do you know?