Wrong Side of the Grave
Bryna Butler
eBook
(Swancrest Publishing, March 3, 2015)
Ready for some campy fun? Fans of Doctor Who will love Wrong Side of the Grave, a suspenseful Teen Paranormal Mystery with a sci-fi twist.Eric Jansen is an alien. Offworlder. Take me to your leader, fall from the sky, space invading, phoning home, UFO jockey. A swipe of the tattoo on his arm will reveal his true form which locals call Mothman, a winged creature formed of ashen gray skin and glowing red eyes.So when the recently deceased of Point Pleasant, West Virginia, start walking and talking, the Men in Black mark Eric as suspect number one. It will be up to Eric and the girl-next-door book blogger to solve the mystery before the black suits lock him up and throw away the key.Appropriate for middle grade and up. Excerpt:“Whatever. Is that all? I have to go,” I rush.“No, dude, we have another set in fifteen.”“Fifteen minutes is a lifetime, my man,” I yell as I shove the door and let it bang against the brick wall outside. To my surprise, Kendall breaks away from me. Luckily, she doesn’t go far. I stop and watch her step impossibly close to my bandleader. Her fingers lift and stroke Ben’s overgrown hair out of his eyes. The silver bangle around her wrist falls down her arm, reflecting the light from the bare bulb over the back door. At her touch, Ben closes his eyes automatically. Tension eases from his body as she whispers to him.“Forget you saw us.”A goofy grin, well goofier than usual, crosses his face. “Ohhh-kayyy,” he agrees in a daze and drifts away, back down the hallway and toward the tables.This chick is stone-cold. My mouth is probably on the floor, but I must pull it together because before I know it, we bound out the door together. The door, of course, doesn’t lead to a secret backstage. In truth, the whole backstage thing is just a pickup line. Transparent, I know. Cheesy, definitely. Yet, it works every time. Kendall doesn’t seem surprised to be outside where only the old, white van we use to haul our instruments and gear waits. Nic calls it the Rough Rider. She parked it atop some tire tracks in the mud where there would be pavement if this were the city. But it’s not. Beyond the back door of the coffee bar are only the post office, a funeral home, and the river.“I thought that maybe under the moonlight, I would recognize you, but no. You are quite the mystery. Are you sure we haven’t met before?” Kendall asks again, a little formally for my comfort. Her word choice would seem odd if I didn’t know better. She is patient. I’ll give her that. Her eyes study every feature of my face and dare me to confess. “You look at me as if you know me.”“I like to think I do.” I keep it light and flash her a flirty grin as I continue to be clever. “I’m not lying when I say that from the first moment I saw you, I wanted to get you alone.”Kendall seems amused by my response. Her lips tighten to a thin line, pulling up in the corners. She turns from me but keeps her hold on my hand, pulling me a few slow steps away from the door. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother trying to make these connections,” she says. She doesn’t look at me while she says it, but I’m looking at her. She walks like she’s dancing. Her movements are so graceful they nearly defy gravity. I watch as Kendall’s blond curls bounce against her back with each careful step around the mud. I watch as her arms swing open for balance. Her pale skin catches the moonlight so that it glistens. “I suppose it’s my age showing,” she continues, not paying a bit of attention to me. “I’ve become a granny rambling on about who’s related to who. I need to learn that it doesn’t matter in the scheme of things. Whether we have met before is of no consequence this close to the end.”I laugh. That’s just like the old ones. Slipping up when they think they’re safe; when they think they’re in control. To her, I’m already dead.