"From the first page, I couldn't put this book down. The shadows have never been so deliciously dark [...]
The mystery and evil that comes out at night had me sitting at the edge of my seat, and I couldn't put the book down. I hope there is a second book [...]." - Brenda, Goodreads
Published: June 5th, 2017
Something is wrong in Hidden Creek. The sleepy Alabama town is more haunted than any place fiend hunter Grisham Caso has ever seen. Unearthed graves, curse bags, and spilled blood all point to an evil that could destroy his gargoyle birthright. The town isn’t safe for anyone, and everyone says fiery Piper Devon knows why.
Piper wants to leave Hidden Creek behind. She’s had enough of secrets—they hide in the shadows of her room and tell her terrible things are coming. Too-charming city boy Grisham might be her only chance to save herself.
To survive, Piper and Grisham have to shed their secrets and depend only on each other. But what lurks in Hidden Creek still might take everything away from them, including each other.
“The fiends here aren’t like anything I’ve ever seen. The way they’re behaving means something is happening in this town.” Hidden Creek had hidden depths—that was for certain.
Danny’s eyes were on me when I looked up. He’d complained that Piper stared, but I felt like he was staring at me in a way I didn’t care for.
“There is something about this place. Critch says so anyway. He says Watchers are born where Watchers died. That’s how he got the birthright. That’s why he lived here. The birthright lingers, haunts, maybe even taints the soil.”
A chill ran up my spine, and I abandoned my bag search. “A Watcher died here?”
“Sure did. A whole family line died here. Fiends ripped a Watcher to shreds here. He’s buried in the cemetery on Old Hill road.” He shrugged. “That sorta violence don’t let up—maybe it makes people crazy—do things they might not normally. And Critch says that Watchers and fiends are drawn to each other.” Danny continued spinning the keys on his keyring as we left the mill and walked toward his truck. “There are things here in Hidden Creek, Gris. Things that won’t go quietly. You’re in over your head. You better watch yourself or Hidden Creek will get you, too.”
I didn’t like his smile—didn’t trust it.
Maybe there was something wrong lurking in Hidden Creek. Something dangerous and evil. But it wasn’t Piper.
It couldn’t be.
About the author:
Wendy Laine is the penname of author Wendy Sparrow. Writing is in Wendy’s blood as are equal parts of Mountain Dew and chocolate. Wendy has been telling tales since she was a child with varying amounts of success. Her parents clearly anticipated her forays into the paranormal because she heard “The Boy Who Cried Wolf’ over and over. She lives in Washington State with a wonderful husband and two quirky kids and is active in Autism and OCD support networks. She can usually be found on Twitter where she’ll talk to anyone who talks to her and occasionally just to herself.