Fate Worse than Death Read online

  The Journals of Octavia Hollows:

  Vol. 2

  Written by Stacey Rourke

  Copyright 2023 Stacey Rourke

  Special thanks to:

  Melissa Stevens

  Melissa Ringsted

  Stacy Sanford

  Becca Vincenza

  All rights reserved. Published by Anchor Group Publishing. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

  Find a full list of Stacey Rourke’s books here:

  www.staceyrourke.com

  When Last We Saw Octavia Hollows:

  Sorry, I just always wanted to say that.

  Hey, all.

  Octavia here, with your recap of my mess of a life so far. Most notable factoid about me? I can raise the dead. Sounds cool, right? Not so much. That means before I learned to control that particular ability, anything I came into contact with that was dead pulsed to life with a touch of my hand. Picture that the next time you bite into a chicken nugget. It’s traumatizing.

  Needless to say, growing up I was viewed as a freak. And it wasn’t like I had the support of a family to explain the ins and outs of necromancy to me. Nope. As a ward of the state, I got bumped from foster home to foster home, from bad situation to worse. The one safe haven I found was a coven of witches who took me into their fold. For the first time, I felt a part of something. Like I had truly found where I belonged. Then, I was involved in a shooting.

  You would think that would be the moment when my curse became a gift, allowing me to bring back each and every person struck down by a bullet. Not the case. As it turned out, they came back all kinds of pissed off. The police thought it was some sort of zombie apocalypse.

  Nope, it was my fault.

  I had the horrifying displeasure of watching all those innocent victims get gunned down a second time. Needless to say, those emotional scars cut deep. Unable to escape the pain, I ran. Lived on the streets. Performed odd jobs to get by. Then, I met Elba and fell in love hard and fast. We were going to get married, and I have no doubt we would have… if he hadn’t died in a horrible scaffolding incident on the construction site he worked at.

  Now, I know what you’re thinking. Because I thought it, too.

  You’re a necromancer. Bring him back.

  That was my plan. Until his body went missing. You might not know much about the particulars of raising the dead, but it’s considerably harder to accomplish without a corpse.

  Refusing to give up, I went on a cross-country hunt in search of him. But I wasn’t alone. Strapped to my chest in an infant carrier was Bacon, my undead pig. You see, I had a brief stint working in a butcher shop where I tripped over a small roasting pig and accidentally resurrected him. Unable to resist his sweet little face, he became my curly-tailed bud who accompanied me everywhere.

  Together, we faced off against a Wraith. Were promised our deepest desires by a Jinn. Made friends with a sea monster. Learned what a no-no square was by a Siren. (Still haven’t recovered from that one.) And partnered up with an incredibly hot guy named Reid, who goes all wolf-man from time to time.

  Just when we thought we would never find Elba’s body, I learned I had a creepy stalker who had stolen the corpse and planned to use it to expose me to the world. His method of persuasion? Killing my entire coven. You remember, the closest thing I ever had to a family? Yeah, them. This didn’t end well for crazy stalker guy. Or me, if I’m being honest. I resurrected Elba, who immediately sacrificed himself for the greater good.

  Noble, right?

  See why I was into him?

  With the threat of my stalker eliminated, I brought my coven back and the sexy wolf-man made it known he wanted to be more than friends—as soon as I was ready. Guilt and my own inhibitions landed him in the friend zone… for now. After all this messy drama was put to rest, Reid, Bacon, and I took a vacation to unwind. That’s when we learned paranormal activity doesn’t take a holiday, and I seem to be a beacon for the strange and unusual…

  That gets us all caught up.

  Now, if you’re ready, warrior pig has been activated.

  Let’s do this.

  Prologue

  Throwing open the door with her hands still tightly bound in front of her, the girl sprinted out of the cabin. How long it had been since she’d seen the light of day, she couldn’t say. But the burst of daylight made her eyes water and vision blur. Still, she couldn’t let that slow or stop her.

  Not if she truly hoped to escape the monster.

  On bare feet, she ran through the woods with rocks slicing her soles and branches lashing at her skin. If she was able, she would have morphed into wolf form, allowing her bindings to fall away and her to disappear into the foliage in a blur of speed.

  But whatever was in those needles he plunged into her neck prevented her from shifting. By the way it scorched through her veins when he pushed the plunger in, she guessed it to be wolfsbane. Had she not been drugged, she would have ripped his throat out with her bare teeth a hundred times over.

  When he drugged her and her friend’s drinks at the bar.

  When he tossed them into the back of his truck with their hands bound and mouths duct taped.

  When he dragged them into that filthy little shack in the middle of nowhere.

  When he mercilessly beat and tortured them… readministering the wolfsbane whenever their healing time began to increase.

  When he killed her best friend right in front of her and warned she soon would be next.

  Still, she refused to go down without a fight. For the first time since shifting on the full moon following her sixteenth birthday, she couldn’t rely on her inner wolf to save her. But she had one thing on her side: Time. Her captor left for hours on end, both day and night, leaving her chained to the metal frame of a bed topped with nothing but bare metal springs. Sinking onto the floor beside it, she waited and memorized his pattern.

  Her entire existence revolved around when that door would squeak on its hinges, signaling her nightmare was beginning once more. While his brand of torture was never the same twice, what came beforehand could be counted on like clockwork. Whistling that creepy little tune that made chills claw down her spine, his frame would fill the doorway. He would click on the halogen light on the table and drop his keys beside it. Then, he would unroll a leather pack rolled up with his chosen tools for the day’s grisly session. Pliers. Chains. Scalpels. Knives. The instruments changed regularly. But the syringe was a constant.

  She was expected to hold still as he injected her with whatever it was that kept her canine side at bay. If she did, her ankles were unshackled and she was allowed to go outside to relieve herself. After which she was marched back in, chained up, and rewarded with a bottle of water and whatever gas station snack food he happened to bring. If, however, she put up a fight, she was left to stew in her own filth as his experiments began.

  His goal? Other than malicious cruelty, it seemed to be to determine how much her kind could withstand before their injuries became fatal. For her friend, that line was crossed quickly when he forced a silver bullet down her throat. It poisoned her from the inside out. Foaming at the mouth, her body writhed until she went deathly still. He dragged her lifeless corpse out of the cabin, though what became of it she had no clue.

  Hellbent on not suffering the same fate, the girl spent every conscious second plotting and preparing. The moment after he unshackled her… that was her sliver of time to strike. There was nothing she could arm herself with to use as a weapon, and her wolf strength was currently nonexistent. Still, she had choreographed a plan that would be her one and only shot at survival.

  Tires crunched over gravel outside and she knew it was time. The truck door slammed shut and he began to whistle. Always the same song.

  “Goodbye, Joe, me gotta go, me oh, my oh.”

  It set her teeth on edge, causing her heart to pound against her ribs. The cabin door swung open and she obediently cast her stare to the floor. She heard the clink of his keys dropping to the table and the shush of leather over leather as he unrolled his bundle.

  “Is this going to be a good day or a bad day?” he asked, closing the distance between them with the syringe raised beside his head. “You decide.”

  Closing her eyes, she clamped her lips shut and offered him her neck. The injection burned through her, causing her to choke back a yelp. Satisfied he wouldn’t have an enraged wolf on his hands, he pulled the key to her shackles from his back pocket and bumped the side of her leg with his boot. She obeyed without a fuss, offering him her ankles to unlock.

  As soon as she heard the lock unclick, she scampered to her feet and immediately feigned a dizzy spell. Stumbling forward, she bumped into her captor.

  “Get off me, bitch!” he bellowed, shoving her away from him… and straight toward the table.

  She caught herself on the edge of it and lingered there as if trying to reclaim her footing. In reality, she was waiting for him to get close enough so he couldn’t stop what he didn’t see coming. His heavy footfalls thundered over the rickety floorboards, his hand closing around her upper arm. As he spun her to face him, she grabbed the utility lamp off the table and swung with every ounce of strength she could muster. It slammed into his temple and he slumped to the floor.

  Not wanting to waste a second, the girl jumped over his fallen form and sprinte
d out the door. Weaving between trees with her pulse hammering and body aching, she desperately inserted distance between herself and the cabin. With no idea where she was or where she was going, she could only pray to find some sort of help. Despite the laundry list of odds stacked against her, hope bloomed in her chest for the first time in days.

  That she might actually escape.

  That she would live.

  Until… she heard a gun cock and his menacing voice called out, “Where ya goin’, mon cher? I’m not done with you yet.”

  Tears streaking down her face, her frantic gaze searched the woods for someplace to run… to hide. In her panicked state, she failed to notice an exposed tree root protruding from the ground in front of her. Her ankle caught it, sending daggers of pain shooting up her leg as she tumbled to the ground. The side of her skull cracked against a rock and the world swam out of focus.

  The last thing she heard before a shroud of darkness consumed her was a singsong voice taunting, “Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun, on the bayou.”

  Chapter One

  “I thought you said this place was known for its nacho mountain?”

  “It is. Supposedly, it comes with a chili sauce that was featured on the Food Network.”

  I backpedaled towards the juke box, which was explaining what it sounds like when doves cry. “Did the Food Network happen to mention the freaky-ass specter?”

  A nightmare with the skull and torso of a skeleton and a lower half of roiling, churning darkness herded me back further with its floating form. The crimson cloak it wore snapped out behind it like a living flame.

  “Oddly enough, they left that out. But I think I found something!” Reid’s thumbs flicked over his phone screen, his warm topaz gaze scanning as he scrolled. He had a Jason Momoa quality to him that I appreciated more when I wasn’t being tormented by a malevolent entity. “It says here that every specter is in possession of a quartz blade. You just have to take that and use it against it.”

  “Don’t say just like this is easy! You’re belittling a moment that is truly traumatizing.” Even as I argued, I noticed the creepy creature was indeed clutching a white quartz dagger in one bony hand.

  Broad shoulders sagging, Reid blinked my way. “My apologies. Let me take this time to respect your journey, while the essence eater closes in.”

  “Really? Does this seem like a good time for sarcasm?” My voice raised a panicked octave as the hooded monstrosity raised the dagger alongside the putrefied flesh of its skull. “How do I get the blade?”

  “It doesn’t say! How about a distraction, then you can lunge for it?” As he posed the idea, Reid’s features began to morph. Dull incisors stretched to deadly canine fangs. One blink and his eyes glowed a brilliant amber.

  Before he could manage so much as a growl, a high-pitched squeal echoed off the walls. Ears flapping and hooves clicking over the linoleum floor, Bacon galloped over in full warrior pig mode. Biting down on the tattered hem of the beastie’s cloak, my swine with an attitude pulled and tugged for all he was worth.

  The specter might not have had legs, but that didn’t stop it from reeling back at the enraged pork chop’s attack.

  Eyebrows raised, I pushed off the faux-wood paneled wall. “Not what I had in mind, but I can work with this.”

  While the entity curled the bony digits of one hand around the fabric to battle against Bacon, I inched closer on the balls of my feet. “I’ll take that…” Reaching out, I pinched the hilt of the blade between my thumb and forefinger, held my breath, and pulled. “Yoink!”

  The instant it touched my skin it radiated with a deep crimson glow. The specter’s attention snapped my way, its unhinged jaws spreading into a sickly grin.

  I expected a fight, after which it would try to eat my essence—whatever that looked like. Instead, it lowered its head and dipped in a formal bow. Which somehow proved to be even more terrifying.

  Bumping into the jukebox, my lower back slid over its glass front in my attempt to side-step around the ghoul. “Okay, I have it! Now what?”

  With a shake of his head, Reid’s features returned to normal. “I realize this is a really bad time to admit this, but I’m pretty sure the site I got that information from was a Dungeons and Dragons board. Best advice I can give? Stab it!”

  “You have got to be friggin’ kidding me!” Forcing the words between clenched teeth, I planted my feet and jabbed the blade out. It slid between the specter’s ribs, rattling around in the empty chest cavity and earning no reaction. Not a thing. “No wonder it was hunky-dory with me taking its weapon. I could stab at it until my arm falls off, and it doesn’t feel a thing!”

  My attempts to maim it having failed, the imposing apparition gave an ominous chuckle. Floating closer, it pressed me further back. One wrong step and I would be cornered.

  “Have you tried touching it?” Reid offered in a tone he probably thought was in some way helpful. “Maybe your Lazarus Effect will make it mortal and you can stab it.”

  “Don’t you think that’s the very first thing I tried? Had I not touched it, it wouldn’t have this somewhat solid form. Which seemed like a much more positive thing before I was staring into the creepy white eyes of an otherwise hollow skull.” Somewhere in the middle of that enraged rant, an idea came to me. I swung the dagger wide a second time and let the blade sink into the specter’s eye… the only tissue anywhere on it.

  The being jerked back, the vertebrates of its neck cracking as its head tilted in mild interest. Raising one hand, it wrapped its digits around the hilt and pulled. The blade came loose with a sickening slurp, leaving a gaping, black void in its place. A flick of its wrist and it sent the dagger clattering to the floor.

  Puffing my cheeks, I exhaled through pursed lips. “Not going to lie. I really expected that to work.”

  “Octavia,” Reid rumbled, his voice deepening, “we’re running out of ideas here. I really think a bit of canine assistance might be a good idea.”

  I probably would have argued further… had I not maneuvered myself into a corner with no chance for escape. Granted, I didn’t know what specters did to their victims, but chances were slim it involved a firm handshake and parting ways amicably.

  “Fine, but only to make you feel like you’re contributing. Five more minutes and I would’ve had him right where I wanted him.”

  “Sure you would have.” Reid’s words morphed into a growl, his features taking on a canine likeness. The bones of his face snapped and popped, shifting into a dog-like muzzle.

  Muscular frame swelling, his shirt shredded to ribbons, revealing a thick coat of dark fur sprouting over every inch of exposed flesh. Odd as it was, his lower half remained human. Throwing his arms out wide, a menacing roar tore from his throat.

  It was such a spectacular scene, it almost distracted me from the sound of fabric ripping and the specter recoiling with a sharp hiss. Almost. Head whipping in that direction, I found Bacon still holding the cloak tight between his teeth and shaking his adorable little head vigorously from side to side.

  When Bacon tore the fabric, it somehow caused the being pain.

  As Reid sprinted toward the specter in a fury of fur and fang, I screamed my throat raw. “The cloak is its weakness! Go for the cloak!”

  Taking advantage of the phantom’s divided attention, I fell into a low crouch and scooped the quartz blade off the floor. Flipping it in my palm, I caught it in an overhand grip and charged in on the attack alongside my big, bad wolf and spunky little piggy. We moved as a unit on the skittish specter, who spun in attempts to keep its one good eye on all three of us.

  Together we unleashed hell on that thickly woven red fabric. Material ripped. Frayed chunks flew. Reid fastened his teeth in one side while Bacon held tight to the other. Pulling in opposite directions, they split the garment up the back, earning an ear-piercing shriek from the apparition. What few bones it had disintegrated into dust that blew away on dissipating wisps of dark energy. By the time our trio stumbled back, chests rising and falling with each labored breath, nothing remained of the specter but a pile of tattered crimson ribbons.

  Silence fell.