Witch Fire: The Sundancer Mysteries, #3

By Brian Freyermuth and Juliet Freyermuth

Someone is gathering belief, working like little Worm himself, digging under the cities of logic and reason.

 

That's the ominous warning Coyote gives Nick after a monster attacks him and his girlfriend, Thelma. Someone has been testing the waters for months now, from the demon attacks to the horror of the Green Man. And now someone has attacked his mother and put her in a coma, and only Nick can save her.

 

But to do that he must scour the City of Sin for a man who is a myth, even among the many real gods and goddesses of the world. One whose name was whispered in the shadows as Nick fought demons and ancient gods over the last few months: Evan Constantine.

 

But not even Constantine, crazy goddesses or hulked out demigods can prepare him for the one thing that scares him more than anything.

 

Family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Middark Press
• Release date: Nov 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9780989948951

Brian Freyermuth

Following his passion and creativity Brian Freyermuth began his game design career with the award-winning computer role-playing game, “Fallout” and hasn't looked back. When he’s not making video games or writing novels, Brian can usually be found spending time with wife and son, reading, hiking, or out in the wasteland hunting down feral ghouls. You can visit his website at www.magicalunderworld.com.

Book preview

Chapter

One

I’ve faced demons, insane mobsters, and ancient, prehistoric gods, but nothing prepared me for telling my friend I was dating his sister.

What the hell are you thinking!? Jake yelled. He had a death grip on the countertop, and his dark sunglasses gazed at a point beyond my right shoulder. Most people saw only the thin, five-foot six frame, the dark skin, and the blindness. Or they skipped right over him like he didn’t exist. But I knew better. A couple of years ago, he went head-to-head with a two-ton dragon, set him on fire, tossed him in the air like a rag doll, and then asked if I wanted a latte. Mercutio never cheated him at poker again.

Jake, I said quietly.

He stopped.

We’re telling you as a courtesy, I said. "But it will not stop me from seeing Thelma."

Oh, I have a few things that’ll stop you, Jake growled as he took a step forward. His dark sunglasses glared in my general direction, and I could feel the power radiating off him.

Jake! Thelma snapped. What the hell’s wrong with you? Nick’s your friend. Not to mention, I didn’t say anything when you dated that kleptomaniac, Shala.

"He was my friend. And how could I know Shala was going to rip off Marie Laveau’s chalice from Aunt Sindhu? But that’s not the damn point!"

Then what is? She stepped between us, hands on her hips. Right now, she was as formidable as her brother. She had a good two inches on him, and she glared down at him with the full force of her own anger.

You remember that demon fiasco? That whole thing happened because this one—he waved in my direction—killed some woman’s brother and she went all homicidal on his ass.

Hey, I said defensively, she also helped her husband’s career by killing a bunch of prostitutes and trying to kill a little girl, if you remember correctly.

See? Trouble follows him around like a cosmic STD! Jake bellowed.

STD? I said, my anger flaring.

Okay, you both need to calm down, Thelma said as she reached toward him.

Calm down?! Jake slapped her hand away. First his wife dies, then his sister-in-law gets sent to hell. You really want to follow in their footsteps?

Both Thelma and I stopped. I couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth. Rage flooded my system to the point of overload but also mixed with a little bit of guilt.

Jake must’ve felt something shift in me because his eyes fell downward. Look, man, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…

You just what? I asked, the Beast leaking into my tone. My vision had started to go red before I knew it.

The jingle of the bell above the African Queen’s door interrupted my rage.

We’re closed, Thelma snapped.

A rancid odor assaulted my nose as the stranger ducked his head under the door of Thelma’s coffee shop and entered. His long, shaggy hair draped around his threadbare Pantera T-shirt. Mud caked his heavy, black beard and his torn jeans. His nostrils flared as he surveyed the room. On one hand, he radiated the hostility of a predator, yet he looked like he would bolt at the slightest provocation.

A twinge of pain struck the back of my brain. A small little pinprick migraine, come and gone, but I recognized it. There was some mind mojo going on, and it was all centered on Mr. Big-Grungy-and-Mean walking through the doorway.

This is Neutral Ground, buddy, I said. Or didn’t you get the memo?

You smell nice, the intruder said in a voice so deep it vibrated my bones.

Jake stepped up next to me, his anger redirected to this new threat. And you smell like shit. I suggest you turn around. Like he said, this is Neutral Ground.

I’ve been asleep for many, many years. The man inhaled deeply as he ignored Jake. "And you all smell real nice." He licked his lips.

With that, the enormous man rocked back and spread his arms wide. A cacophony like ripping paper shredded the air. Flesh flew away in chunks as his hands turned into two split hooves. His head ripped apart as two huge antlers burst out of his scalp in a spray of blood. His face elongated like someone pulling a string of taffy until his head was a thick elk muzzle with round, dark eyes. The rest of his body remained human.

Okay, that’s new, Thelma said.

Listen, you, I said, looking up at the giant mutated elk-minotaur… thing. Seriously, what the hell are you? This is Neutral…

He interrupted me by slamming his hand-hoof across my face.

I spat out a glob of blood from my torn lip as my adrenaline spiked. Thelma dove behind the counter. I couldn’t see Jake, but I heard him chanting behind me. He had some serious Voodoo mojo, and Thelma had her own weapons, but I was the one who could take a pounding. As long as this Freakshow focused on me, they’d have my back.

As the Elk Man hit me again, I turned to the side and used his own momentum to fling him sideways. Tables blew apart into pieces. The plaster cracked, and an African mask fell to the ground with a snap of wood.

Damn. I hope Thelma wasn’t too attached to that one.

Before Elk Man could recover, I was on top of him. Both of my fists slammed down on his back with the force of a pickup truck. He stood up, as if I were nothing more than a fly on his backside and shook his furry head.

A sachet flew from across the room, hitting the creature in the head. The small pouch broke open, showering him with a fine white powder. The creature stumbled as his eyelids grew droopy. I looked over to where the pouch came from. Jake frantically stirred up something in one of those insulated coffee cups that doesn’t need a sleeve. That’s Thelma for you. Even her to-go cups can be used for protection in a pinch.

Nick, grab some hair from that asshole! Jake called out.

I gave the guy a roundhouse kick to the chest, sending him back across the room. He crashed into the wall and slumped to the ground. I ran over and grabbed some hair as Elk Man shook his head and started to get up. Shit. Jake’s mojo should have knocked him out. I punted him once more in the head, before running over to Jake with the hair.

By the time I turned around, Elk Man was on his feet, charging like a minotaur. Shit. I jumped sideways. My foot connected with his jaw, flinging him across the room into another mask. Dammit, it was Shango. That mask was Thelma’s favorite.

Why won’t you stay down?! I said as the creature struggled to get up. Jake tried to sprinkle something on him, but an antler caught him in the middle, lifted him up, and threw him across the room. Plaster broke as Jake’s unconscious body slid down the wall.

Jake! I yelled.

The thing just snorted out blood and stood up again. It glared at me, and I tensed, but gunshots rang out. Blood poured from the creature’s chest.

He spun, lightning fast, and headed toward Thelma. The bleeding stopped. Thelma let out three more rounds from her Desert Eagle. Adrenaline spiked again, and I leaped onto his shoulders. He didn’t seem fazed, not even when I slammed a fist into his skull. He reared back and tossed me through the shop window. Glass tinkled around me as I struggled to get to him before he reached Thelma. He hit her, sending her into the wall next to Jake.

You son of a bitch! I launched myself toward him through the window, grabbed a couple handfuls of thick hair, and tossed him sideways, sending him through the open frame and out into the street.

The Elk Man landed next to a group of teenagers. One of them, a kid with black hair and thick-rimmed glasses, stood awestruck, recording with his cell phone. Good. That should bring the Watchers.

Go! I screamed as I leaped through the open window. The teenagers scattered, and the kid with the cell phone ran across the street, still recording.

My distraction was my undoing. The Elk Man picked me up. Slam. Concrete shattered around my body as I felt him lift me up again. Slam. A deeper hole formed below me. I struggled to stay conscious as he used me as a sledgehammer.

I managed to get one good kick to his knee before he roared again and tossed me like a dog’s chew toy. I flew through the air before slamming into the tree across the street, cracking a tree limb and a few of my ribs. Everything screamed at me to stay down as I made my way to my feet.

A low baritone rumbled through the asphalt. It was a wordless tune, rising and falling like the waves of the ocean. It brought to mind an image of wind-filled sails and lost loves. I couldn’t think for a moment, couldn’t focus on anything except the haunting melody.

Then a migraine split my skull, making me wince. The fog in my brain cleared, and suddenly I was back. The Elk Man stood, transfixed, with drool hanging from his muzzle in a long sticky trail.

Jake limped forward from inside the shop, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. The haunting melody flowed from his lips. Two more gunshots cracked the air. Thank God. I couldn’t see her, but Thelma was okay. The bullets hit their mark, but once again the bleeding stopped as soon as it started.

Okay, I probably had seconds, maybe less. Punching the thing didn’t work. Shooting the thing didn’t work. There was something, though. In my last showdown with the Green Man, I discovered a new talent that had taken out a god, so it should be enough for this bastard. It would kill him, but it might take out the rest of the block too. If I didn’t, he could kill everyone here and rampage through Seattle. So, it was time to pull out my last resort.

It was time to bring the witch fire.

I focused on Jake and Thelma’s bloodied faces. Rage flared and my vision went red again. I shoved all my anger into my fists, focused on the energy, and let it stoke the furnace inside my head. My right hand burst into blue-white flames.

With a scream that shook the windows, I aimed the fire toward the Elk Man. I tried to keep the fire focused only on him. I didn’t want anyone else hurt. Just him.

The witch fire fanned out in a narrow wedge of white-blue death. The Elk Man screamed as the flames enveloped him. The heat was so intense he couldn’t move. He just dropped to his knees as the flames consumed flesh and bone.

I grinned stupidly as the fire left me. My elation turned to horror when the wave swept past him. Jake and Thelma flung themselves to the ground. Tables and chairs exploded like fireworks as the inferno engulfed Thelma’s shop.

Shit.

I tried to step forward toward my friends, I really did, but a sudden wave of debilitating weakness knocked my legs out from under me. Time slowed. The smoldering corpse of the Elk Man melted. The teenager lay on the ground across the street, his camera still clutched in his unconscious hand, as a group of silent, red-clad figures popped into existence. I willed my body to wake up and move, but my eyes rolled up into my head as I passed into dark oblivion.

Chapter

Two

Iwoke to the sounds of a crackling fire. Thelma stroked my hair as I lay in her lap. I could stay here forever , I thought, wondering where we were. Sirens assaulted my reverie. I bolted up as my eyes popped open, letting the reality, with all her nasty glory, punch me right in the gut.

The African Queen was burning.

A look of silent horror stretched across Thelma's face as she watched her dreams burn away.

Oh God, Thelma, I’m so sorry, I said. She didn’t answer. Thelma?

It’ll be fine, she said with a distant look in her eye. I have insurance. It’ll be fine.

It sure as hell wouldn’t be fine. Firefighters battled the blaze as the police prevented anyone from getting too close. No one noticed the scarlet men and women watching from the shadows, but I did.

Where’s Jake? I asked.

Hm?

Jake, I asked again.

She nodded toward the back of an ambulance. Jake kept slapping the paramedic’s hands away, and I could hear his grumbling from where we sat.

Every muscle screamed at me as I stood up. My head throbbed, and the skin on my hands felt raw. Thelma stayed seated on the ground, her eyes locked on her burning shop. I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry wasn’t enough. I settled for putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently.

She reached up and squeezed my hand back but didn’t look up at me.

I couldn’t stop the fire, and I couldn’t stop the guilt. I wanted to punch someone. My eyes scanned the lot. An oily, black puddle on the street was the only thing left of the Elk Man. That left the figures in red. And if there was anyone who deserved an ass kicking, it was them.

The Watchers were the overseers of the supernatural world. They rarely fought the battles, but they were always there to clean up the mess afterward. You ever wonder why Baal, Coyote, or a prima donna like Loki didn’t have their own YouTube channels? Or why the invention of the cell phone camera didn’t catch all sorts of theatrics by bored gods, vampires, and the like? Given the chance, they’d turn reality TV into something akin to The Amazing Race meets Stranger Things.

You could thank the Watchers for missing out on that.

Speaking of which, one Watcher, a woman in a dark red raincoat, bent over the teen and picked up his phone. It sparked in her hands, causing a thin column of smoke to spiral into the breeze. She wasn’t who I wanted to talk to, though. The Watchers were scary as shit, but there was one that was kind of okay, in a homicidal, leashed-dog kind of way. Aquila—not his given name, of course—helped Thelma and me stop the Green Man from destroying Seattle last month. I had a ton of questions that needed answers, and he was the only Watcher I trusted to give me the truth. Well, most of the truth anyway. And there he was, touching the forehead of a young woman with a pink scarf wrapped around her head.

A scarlet opera cloak draped around his shoulders and hung to his knees. Wavy, dark hair flowed past his shoulders. Like his fellow Watchers, the man wore a black oval mask, concealing everything except his blue eyes.

Aquila, buddy, I snapped, nice of you to drop by. And here I was, thinking you guys had scruples. You helped me stop a forest god but are MIA when this thing destroys Neutral Ground?

He was silent for a good long moment before sighing. He seemed conflicted about what to say, but for once, his better angels won. We knew nothing about this, he said, almost too soft to hear. His eyes darted to the other Watchers cleaning up the scene.

Okay, that gave me pause. How the hell could you not know?

We had no warning until one of these children tried to film the scene.

I take it that doesn’t happen often?

Only in special circumstances, Aquila said.

‘Special circumstances’? What the hell does that mean? I gestured at the burning shop. Thelma’s place is Neutral Ground! It had been designated by Heaven and Hell a few months prior.

Once again, I could see the conflict in him. The Oracles detected nothing because the creature you attacked did not exist.

That thing hit pretty damn hard for a figment of my imagination.

That depends.

On what? I demanded.

On whose imagination spawned it. He nodded toward the front door of the coffee shop.

A familiar figure stumbled out of the smoking ruins. Like the Watchers, the firefighters didn’t pay him any mind. The man’s expensive three-piece suit was dirty and singed, and his long, black hair caked to his sweaty face. A leather rope hung around his neck with an ankh, an OM pendent, and a Star of David hanging from it. He staggered into the street like he was sobering up from a three-day bender, flicking an ember off his sleeve. Dread overcame me as he met my eyes. Coyote. Shit.

He had stories in all the major Native religions from the Navajo to the Crow and Apache. And a few months ago, he’d thrown a car at me.

I looked back to ask Aquila if Coyote had caused all this, but the Watchers were gone.

You! I called out to Coyote as I headed toward him, trying to decide whether to punch him in the face or kick him in the gut. Either sounded appealing. Is this your doing?

Ah, the half-blood with the horrible hats, he slurred. He looked Cherokee this time around, unlike the last time we met, when he had borrowed from my own Lakota heritage.

I put a hand instinctively to my trusty baseball cap, slung on backward, as usual. I wore the one Jake had given me. It said, Wait till I make your doll! on the front, with a tiny stick figure of a Voodoo doll next to the words. He had joked when he had given it to me, calling it my lucky cap. Yeah, lucky my ass.

‘Horrible hats’? Says the guy mixing religions around his neck. What did you do?

These? Coyote said, holding up the OM symbol with a shrug and ignoring my question. I won them a few nights ago. Ganesh is totally pissed that he has to be at my beck and call until the next game.

What about the other two? I asked before I had the good sense to stop myself.

Well—

"No. Forget it. I don’t want to know. So, what did you do?" I demanded again.

Me? Why do they always blame the red man?

Yes, you! You racist, narcissistic… Thelma seethed as she put her arm around my waist.

I stroked her shoulder before looking at Coyote. That would work except, you know, the half-Lakota thing, I said.

I caught movement to my side. Jake appeared, a bandage on his head.

Coyote stared at me for a moment with watery, bloodshot eyes. Fine. The god twitched and waved a hand.

Something bumped against the back of my leg, and I looked down to see a lawn chair behind me on the sidewalk. There were three others, all sitting in front of Thelma’s burned-out shop. I glanced around, but no one else had noticed.

I sat down, never taking my eyes off Coyote as he slumped down in his own chair, grabbed a stick and a marshmallow, before turning to Thelma. Want one?

Thelma ignored him as she sat. At least rage replaced the distant look she had. For now. Jake continued to stand.

I want answers, she said, turning her gaze to Coyote. What were you doing in my shop?

Coyote grumbled, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. In all the stories about him, there was always one constant: his pride. Then, he sighed.

So, I’m in LA producing this movie, and I meet these two gymnasts, Coyote said. He held his head with both his hands as if someone was trying to crack it open like a piñata. Married couple, wonderfully athletic. We all headed back to their apartment for a late-night tumble, if you catch my drift.

Thelma raised her eyebrows at me. I shrugged. He’d get to the point, eventually. I hoped.

The girl’s name was Treasure, and she made the best mojitos, he said with a wistful smile. Coyote was wearing sunglasses, but I didn’t recall him putting them on. Oh, Raven would be proud. He shook his head, his smile turning sour. "And then I wake up here, in the middle of a poor man’s Backdraft. I don’t do disaster movies. Comedies are my thing, man. ‘You’re literally too stupid to insult.’"

‘Thank you,’ I shot back before I could stop myself. "You’re quoting The Hangover now?"

Seemed appropriate. Now, who’s going to tell me what’s going on around here?

I shook my head and described the mutant minotaur reject, the fight, the fire, and the Watchers. We’re as clueless as you are.

I am never clueless, Coyote scoffed. Charming, witty, and deadly handsome, but never, ever clueless. He scratched his chin. So, you defeated the Elk Man? Good for you. Of course, I’d have killed him without burning down my girlfriend’s livelihood. Coyote gazed back at the ruins with a grin.

Acid churned in my gut, but I wouldn’t let him know it. I ignored the dig. You know what that thing was? I asked. Aquila said it didn’t exist, that it was a figment of someone’s imagination.

Coyote raised his eyebrows at Aquila’s name but didn’t ask. Instead, he grumbled, Yeah, probably mine. I was having a fantastic dream about my time in the summer Olympics, ’80s maybe. No, it must have been the ’70s because I had this VW bus with shag carpet⁠—

Coyote. I seethed.

He stared at me for a long moment. Rude. Now where was I? Oh yeah, I had this amazing swimmer put her legs behind her head, then old Elkie showed up. Ruined the whole mood. Now, I don’t take too kindly to my dreams being invaded by my old enemies, so I threw him out. He looked around again. Oops.

Oops was right. Thelma’s fingers clenched mine, and her mouth almost disappeared in an angry line.

So let me get this straight, Thelma asked through clenched teeth. Someone got you drunk, and because of that you destroyed my shop?

"Technically, he destroyed your shop." Coyote nodded at me.

I grasped Thelma’s hand, giving it a gentled squeeze in hopes to prevent her from throttling the cocky bastard. Coyote looked calm, but I could see his own fury bubbling underneath. My anger was there too, don’t get me wrong, but I tend to not slap around angry gods unless I absolutely have to.

"And no, I was not drunk, Coyote snapped. If I was drunk, this would be a lot more interesting than the Elk Man visiting you. Someone did this to me," he said, astonished and pissed. He jumped to his feet and paced with increasing rage.

We all flinched back, including Thelma.

This is unacceptable. The god paced in anger. If Crow did this, I’ll make his feathers fall out for a millennium. Kaulu, Loki, Iktomi, I don’t care who did this, they will feel my wrath⁠—

Are you done? I asked. Because I have my own questions.

You’re going to piss in my cornflakes, flesh bag? Coyote growled as he glared at me.

I didn’t budge. You heard me. I’ve just cleaned up your mess, and we deserve some answers.

And why should I answer them? Coyote snarled.

Because you owe us. We saved you the embarrassment of having the city destroyed by your wet dream.

For a moment I thought I’d pushed him too far, but I was too exhausted to care.

Then Coyote smiled, and that was far scarier. That’s true, he said. That’s very, very true. Raven would never let me hear the end of it.

You don’t remember anything from last night? I asked. No strange magic? No obvious enemies around?

"I always have enemies around, Coyote said, but no one special last night. I passed out around two in the morning and ended up here. Someone… did this to me," he repeated.

But who could pull off something like that?

Coyote cocked his head. Well, that’s a longer list than I care to admit.

What do you mean? Thelma asked. I don’t know of anything that has the juju to do that.

These days are a-changing, little mambo priestess, Coyote said.

Thelma’s teeth clenched again. I glanced over at Jake, expecting an angry retort, but he remained stoic, taking everything in but revealing nothing. His silence worried me.

There’s magic on the wind, Coyote explained, as if talking to small children. Someone is gathering belief, working like little Worm himself, digging under the cities of logic and reason.

Someone is collecting belief? I asked. What does that even mean?

It means someone’s messing with the natural order of things, Coyote said. Taking his sunglasses off, he glared at me with one brown eye and one dark green. Only my brothers and I are allowed to do that. So, watch your back, little half-man, because someone set this up in your backyard. Someone believes you’re more important than me, and that’s unacceptable.

A sudden wind blew smoke and ash in my face, and I flinched from his gaze to wipe my eyes. When I opened them again, Coyote had disappeared.

Not ominous at all, Thelma said with a tiny, crooked smile.

There was a dark, humorless chuckle behind her. Thelma and I turned. Jake stared into the distance; his face expressionless.

Jake? Thelma asked.

His silence was more frightening than his outbursts.

I had a friend once named Billy, he said finally. "Was deep in the dark scene of the French Quarter. In the beginning, he felt great, like he was invincible or something. He went from zero to one hundred without seeing the consequences. It’s not like he was an asshole or anything. In his spare time, he helped people get off of meth and shit.

"One day he came to me, terrified about something he woke up. Something hungry. I did everything I could. Protection circles, gris-gris bags, anything

Reviews for Witch Fire

[roses7184_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It's no secret that I'm a big fan of Urban Fantasy as a genre. I've fallen in love with the blend of the real world and mythological one. Being able to have one foot in reality, and another on an entirely different plane, makes for a read that I can't get enough of. Needless to say, I was eager to meet Nick St. James and see what wild events his story would drag me into. I wasn't disappointed my friends. Oh no, not at all.

First off let me gush about Nick St. James. Before I even knew anything about his pain filled past, I knew I adored him. He's just vulnerable enough, just kind enough, to make you feel the human part of him. Put someone he wants to protect in danger though, and all hell breaks loose. Nick is a character who channels into the deepest parts of himself, past the darkness, past the pain, to whatever it takes to keep the people he cares about safe. In my book, that absolutely makes him worth following. I ate it up, and went back for seconds.

Lucky for Nick, he's not alone. The cast of characters who come along with him are all just as strong and as vivid as he is. From his vampire sister-in-law, to his possible fling (who has her own secrets hidden away), each of them keeps him, and the story, moving right along. Not to worry, I won't spoil anything for you. I'll just say that there are some big players in this book. Some you'll recognize right away, others you might learn about while reading, but Nick is playing with the big leagues. The amount of action packed into Demon Dance is staggering, and wholly immersing.

The absolute only reason I gave this a four-star rating, rather than a five, is that it did take me a while to catch up with Nick. For the first few chapters, this book reads a bit like a second novel. It unapologetically throws you right into the action. Keep reading on though, trust me. Nick's life is slowly unraveled throughout the story, and by the end you'll have a lot better insight into the man who kicks so much ass on these pages. I still have questions, but I'm hoping they'll be answered in the next book.

Long story short, this is a read that you need to get your hands on! If you're a fan of Urban Fantasy, Demon Dance is sure to easily soar to the top of your favorites list. I know I'm a fan. Bring it on.