An excerpt from Book 3 in the In for A Penny series:

In for a Penny: A Partially Paranormal Romance

Chapter 1

Fang it!

“Here it is!” Bobbie said, presenting us with the third and hopefully final book in my family legacy fulfillment quest. The legacy that dumped me into the plot of whatever book I happened to read in order to meet my supposed true love.

Chase the Night was an indie-published paranormal romance that Bobbie highly recommended. Since I wasn’t currently able to do any recreational reading myself, I had to take her word for it. She was pretty picky about her reading material, so though this whimsical choice surprised me, I trusted her judgment.

We were sitting in the reading nook of my shop, Penny Pincher Used Books. Please don’t assume I’d actually named the store after myself. My grandmother, the store’s original owner, did me that dubious honor. So even though I cringed a little inside every time I heard the name, I couldn’t bear to change it. I’m not clinging sadly to all my grandmother’s old possessions, but I kept the shop name. Every time I heard it, I also thought of Gram.

I’d given Tripp, the object of my affection, the book information and he’d ordered himself a copy from Amazon. It hadn’t come in yet, but it didn’t really matter; he had to be careful about what he read as well.

I stared at the book in her hands with trepidation. “The title’s kind of corny, isn’t it?”

“It’s fairly genre standard. You can’t take paranormal romance too seriously, after all.” Bobbie jutted her chin out a little defensively.

“No, no. That’s fine. I trust your judgment.”

Bobbie pursed her lips.

“All right! Let’s do this thing!” Peter, Bobbie’s boyfriend said with surprising enthusiasm.

“Hold up a minute; let me go over it one more time. I know I’m the novice vampire hunter, and Tripp’s the vampire. Who will everyone else be?” I asked. Tripp was actually super-excited about his role. He looked forward to having super strength and speed—the fangs, not so much. We weren’t yet sure if any of the supernatural stuff would actually work, so I hoped Tripp wouldn’t be too disappointed if he was just a regular human-strength vampire.

“Other than the main characters, sometimes it’s hard to know, so all I can do is guess. Peter will either be the werewolf in wolf form for the first chapter, or Thorne, the other vampire hunter. I’m not sure if I’ll not show up or be cast in a male role. Normally, I’d be the wolf handler, but she’s not in this scene. This will be an interesting experiment,” Bobbie enthused.

Rolling my eyes, I took the book from her and turned it over. The cover was matte black and a blurb on the back told about the story. I was careful not to read any of it, lest we be pulled into the plot before we were ready. There was still much about the legacy magic we didn’t understand, most of which we were learning the hard way. Every. Time.

The front listed the title and author’s name, Hillary Shannon, along with the moon in the background, taking up most of the cover. On the bottom left portion of the cover a wolf silhouette howled at the moon opposite the silhouettes of two people running. I couldn’t really judge the book by its cover, I didn’t have anything to compare it with. I assumed it was pretty standard for this type of genre.

I did look up Hillary Shannon, but she hadn’t published anything else and didn’t even have an author web page. Maybe she was some kind of dark horse like the sparkly vampire author, and Chase the Night would end up being some kind of phenomenon. After this, I think I’d be pretty qualified to give her a review.

“Are we ready, then?” Bobbie asked.

“As I’ll ever be. Here goes.” I cracked the spine and turned to page one.

Chase the Night

Stacia closely followed Thorne into the cave. The wolf leading them stayed several yards ahead. The waves crashing behind them faded as they rounded corner after corner until only the sound of their footsteps and soft breaths remained.

The wolf slowed and Thorne did as well, raising his hand to keep Stacia behind him. He pulled his dagger from its sheath. This wasn’t just any dagger. The Hunter’s dagger, passed to Thorne from his father, and his father before him. Carved from a solid piece of hornbeam, the wood had been honed as sharp as any metal blade. It was oiled and cared for like a steel blade as well, and it never failed. The patina gleamed, picking up and reflecting the faint light from Stacia’s flashlight. Had it been daylight, you could have seen the stain of ancient blood on the blade.

“You must be far enough away that your prey cannot sense you, yet close enough to move in before the were loses control and tears the parasite to bits. ‘Tis its nature. If the werewolf draws blood, even we won’t be able to stop it.” Thorne softly instructed Stacia.

“I may be a novice, but I’m not an imbecile,” she retorted in a whisper. “I know the shifter’s nature from my first year of training.” The species that could change from human to animal form preferred to be called shifters, but old-school Thorne continued to call them werewolves, or simply weres. He was too arrogant to care about being politically correct, despite the invaluable assistance they provided Hunters.

Thorne glared at her in the weak light. He relished his role as instructor, the responsibility of imparting his vast wealth of knowledge to new Hunters. Had he married, he would be training his own son or daughter by now. Their demand so high, fewer Hunters were taking the time to start families of their own. With fewer Hunters by bloodline available, it was important that the knowledge and skills be passed to recruits thoroughly and precisely.

Ignoring her comment, Thorne focused his attention back to the wolf, who stopped, but stood on alert. Its stance indicated that it was safe to approach, for now. Stacia turned on her watch; in fifteen minutes the sun would set. They were safe for the time being but would have to hurry. This vampire was old, and wily. It was very possible that the darkness of the caves allowed it to waken earlier than younger demons.

“Xavier, we must take him alive. We must discover how far his network extends, and we can’t do that if he’s dead,” Thorne spoke to the wolf, who responded with a low, irritated growl.

Stacia wanted to reach out and stroke the beast’s fluffy neck but knew it would be unprofessional and unappreciated; he wasn’t a dog, after all, or even a wolf most of the time.

“Come,” Thorne said softly. Stacia tightened her grip on the kit bag and followed. This was the most dangerous thing a Hunter could do, surprise a vampire in its lair. A vampire was most vulnerable during the day when it slept. The Hunters planned to get in and incapacitate it before it woke. Usually, a lair would be protected by traps or the vampire’s drudge, but this vamp was known to be a loner. It protected itself by constantly moving. Thorne had been tracking it for years.

Stacia felt vulnerable with her hands occupied by the flashlight and kit. She trusted Thorne and his experience to keep her safe. Thorne moved forward; the wolf stayed at her side. He was here for protection as well as tracking. Stacia shone her light ahead so Thorne could see and carefully followed.

After several more turns, the passage opened into a giant cavern, originally carved out by the ocean. The waves hadn’t reached this far back in centuries, and the rocks that littered the floor were remarkably dry. Perfect for a vampire nap.

Thorne reached back and took the flashlight from Stacia’s hand. He swept it slowly around the cavern, starting low and working his way up. The space looked to be one hundred feet wide and perhaps forty in depth. Falling rocks reshaped the perimeter, which had probably not been smooth to begin with.

The shadows hung deep beyond Thorne’s moving light. There were too many places a vampire could tuck itself away. While the Hunter searched with his eyes, Xavier tested the air. He padded next to Thorne and nudged him to the left. Thorne concentrated in that direction, taking cautious steps forward, following the wolf. Stacia hung back. She silently unzipped the kit and pulled out the banded steel restraints, taking care they didn’t clank. Thorne and the wolf rounded a stone formation the size of a truck and disappeared from view. Suddenly the silent cavern echoed with sounds of scuffling, hissing, and growls.

“Stacia, to me!” Thorne shouted. Penny grabbed the kit and hurried to her mentor. Without killing it, they wouldn’t be able to hold the vamp for long. She rounded the rocks and found the vamp on his knees. Thorne stood behind him with blade poised at his quarry’s pale neck. His face was flushed from exertion and a lock of graying hair now brushed the cheekbone below one penetrating blue eye. His biceps bulged, straining to hold his quarry. The wolf stood, teeth bared, with his claws digging into the vampire’s impressive chest.

The vampire, rather than looking angry, had a bemused expression on its face. Tripp tensed when his prisoner reached into its own mouth and prodded at the elongated canines protruding from its gums.

“Duuuude, fangs!”

“Peter?!” I asked. What the heck happened?

****

“Penny?” Tripp removed the knife from Peter’s neck and shook his hair out of his face.

“I thought you were supposed to be the vampire.” I looked from Tripp to the wolf. “Bobbie?” The wolf just continued to growl at Peter.

“Hey, Fido, chill with the claws, would ya?” Peter attempted to remove the giant paws pressing into his chest.

“I take it this isn’t going quite as planned,” Tripp said. He sheathed his blade and bent to help Peter with his wolf problem. The wolf allowed it this time, then sat down with its tongue lolling out of its mouth.

“Bobbie!” I called, because the Bobbie I knew would never let her tongue hang like that.

“Penny!”

I looked around. Tripp peered at the ceiling, trying to locate Bobbie. Peter was trying out his new vampire-fast ninja moves. I ignored his nonchalance regarding his missing girlfriend.

“Where are you?” I called, my voice echoing through the cavern.

“I…I don’t know. I don’t think I’m anywhere, but I can see you and I can see the words on the pages of the book…oh, no,” Bobbie’s voice groaned. “I’m the narrator!”

“Say what?”

“I’m the narrator; I read everything that isn’t dialogue, like an audio book, but with the characters having their own speaking parts.”

“That’s never happened before,” Tripp and I said at the same time. We were both peering up, as if that’s where Bobbie’s disembodied voice came from. Peter stopped his ninja imitation and went back to poking at his fangs.

“How?” Tripp asked.

“I’m not sure…,” Bobbie answered hesitantly. I sensed evasion.

“And I thought you said Tripp would be the vampire, the main character and love interest. How’s that supposed to work now? I’ll have scenes with Peter instead. No offense, but eww.”

“None taken, Penn. You’re like my sister or something,” Peter added, though clearly not as disturbed by the series of events as Tripp and me.

“So if I’m this Thorne guy, what’s my role?” Tripp asked, moving closer to me, but keeping an eye on the wolf, who sat scratching its unmentionables.

“Let me think for a minute,” Bobbie pleaded.

“Babe,” Peter called to the ceiling. “You just need to come clean; no one will be mad. They’ll be proud of you, like I am.” He gave us a hard look that dared us to do otherwise.

“Argh! Peter! Fine.” I’d never heard Bobbie so rattled. “Penny, I’m so sorry, I should have told you, but I’m Hillary Shannon.”

Tripp sent me a questioning look.

“The author?” I asked, trying to wrap my brain around what she was saying.

“Yes, I’m the author. I had no idea any of this would happen. I think because I wrote the story, the magic cast me as the narrator. And I guess since I created the main character with my own personal love interest in mind, Peter got cast as the vampire.”

Tripp held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, hold up. How did you write and get this published so fast? We’ve only been doing this a few months.”

“Bobbie’s been writing for a long time. Last year I finally talked her into publishing some of it.” Peter’s chest puffed with pride.

“How come you never told me? This is kind of a big deal.” I couldn’t believe she hadn’t shared this with me. She was my best friend—she knew all about my family curse and everything. It hurt.

“I’m sorry, Penny; so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to keep it from you, but my writing is fluff. I’m having trouble being proud of the accomplishment while being embarrassed by the content. It’s not even the kind of thing I enjoy reading. I tried reading a couple different light fiction genres to help me relax, but some of the plots were so ridiculous, I couldn’t focus. I started writing because I felt like it wouldn’t be hard to do a better job. Eventually, instead of reading, I found myself writing romantic fiction to relax.”

“So the whole bit about you reading this book and loving it was all a lie?”

I could sense her cringing even if I couldn’t see her. “It’s the one I thought was good enough to publish.”

“How much of that decision has to do with my situation?” I asked. Tripp was right; we hadn’t been dealing with the legacy long enough for Bobbie to have created a whole story for me.

“I’ve had this one written for a little over a year now. Once we figured out what you were dealing with, I started the publishing process. I’d honestly hoped it would provide us with more control.”

Tripp snorted.

“I am proud of you. It’s very cool that you’ve published a book. I’m just shocked.” I gave Tripp a reproachful look.

“So, madam narrator, what do we need to do to finish out this scene?” Tripp asked, trying, almost successfully, to mask the annoyance in his voice. His irritated expression gave him away, though.

“Um, the vampire, Lucien, and Stacia lock eyes and make a connection. You, Thorne, restrain him and escort him to the Hunters’ containment headquarters.”

I glanced at Peter, currently trying to crush a rock in the palm of his hand. “Gotcha,” I said. “But that first part isn’t going to happen.”

“All right, let’s go.” Tripp shined the light in the direction we’d come from and stalked off. The rest of us could follow or stand around in the dark. The wolf trailed behind, occasionally nipping at Peter’s heels.

I caught up to Tripp and snagged his empty hand in mine. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Sure,” he said shortly, but let go of my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders. He squeezed me and kissed the top of my head. This was an unusual turn of events, in already beyond unusual circumstances. All we could do was roll with it.