Formatted by Katrina Joyner; Cover art by Tatiana Villa
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I will have the head of this dog brought to me; my vengeance will cross the mountains, the deserts, the oceans, to the very end of the earth if need be to find him
I will have what is mine again and it will be the thief’s turn to cry.
Aqualine De Silva, the Dark Sister
The smell was horrendous, pure pungent death; it came out of the air and smacked them in the face long before they reached the clearing in the woods.
“Great Goddamn!” Deputy Monroe Watkins exclaimed. “This is going to be the worst one yet.”
“Yeah, it’s rank.” Brad Fuchs had to agree with his deputy; he was almost into his third decade in law enforcement and near the end of his second term as Sheriff of Greenland County, and in that time he’d seen more than his share of his fellow man at their very worst.....or least that’s what he thought until the night of July 30th.
Both men halted and pulled out handkerchiefs; it was poor protection against the stench, but it was better than nothing.