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The sequel to Full Wolf Moon
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ISBN-10: 1-55404-475-8
Genre: Supernatural/Horror/Suspense/Thriller
eBook Length: 274 Pages
Published: August 2007

From inside the flap

In this action packed sequel to award winning ďFull Wolf Moon,Ē the boom times of post World War II have arrived ... as the ancient Incarnation of Fear slaughters and feeds with evermore speed. The Second World War may have ended, but the battle against the Beast rages on. Eight years after Maxwell Pierceís return to humanity, he and David Alma Curar stalk and destroy the pervasive werewolf where ever and whenever they can, a pursuit that takes them over national borders, land and sea.

But nothing they have experienced before can prepare them for where this journey leads them.

Reviews and Awards

ď...Nappier knows how to drive her readers to the edge of a cliff ...Ē ~Margaret Marr,

ď...Nappierís excellent writing [and] characterization make her stand out in the world of independent horror fiction.Ē ~Gabriel Llanas,

Bitten (Excerpt)

Chapter One

The Swamplands of Central Florida

Early Spring, 1950

First Night. Full Moon.

Max stared down at water so black, it swallowed moonlight as absolutely as the creature he stalked gobbled souls. He and David hadnít said a word while picking their way between the swamplandís trees and over the cypress knees. They chose every step as if their lives depended on it. Any sound could be the sound that doomed them.

The Beastís trail had led them to the dark, lapping edges of the swampís body. Until now, at least theyíd had some semblance of ground under their feet, spongy and wet though it was. Swamp gas reeked in Maxís nose and watered his eyes. He didnít dare raise his voice above a whisper, even with all the grisly little God-Knows-What trilling and shrieking from God-Knew-Where.

He waited until David had crept up to him, so close the broad rims of their hats brushed. The little wooden balls, dangling from the brims to thwart mosquitoes and gnats, waggled and clacked softly. Max whispered, "I donít want to go in there."



Max was too fixated on the dark, brackish water licking at his boots to look up. David kept his voice low, but he couldnít keep amusement out of it. "Alligators are a little low on our list of things to worry about."

Max looked at him. "Do you want to go in there?"

David lost his smirk and gazed down at the blackness. Yeah, Max didnít think so. But they both knew they had to.

"Shit," Max said. He leaned his shotgun against the nearest cypress and unstrapped the sidearm from his thigh. He looped the gun belt bandelero-style, waited while David did the same with his, then hiked his shotgun tight against his armpit and waded into the murk. "Why the hell did it have to come this way?"

"Enjoys the company of alligators, I suppose," David whispered back, working his way carefully after Max.

Sarcastic old Navajo. "Youíre sure it came this way?" Max asked.

David kept wading through. "As sure as you are."

Max wasnít that sure anymore. Well, actually to be perfectly honest, the truth was that he didnít want to be sure anymore, now that they were crotch-deep in black water.

The flick of something against the backs of his thighs stopped him cold. He looked down, knowing he couldnít hope to pierce the waterís black veil. He would never see the six foot snake, or the fifty pound snapping turtle, or the ten foot gator until it had his ass in its jaws.

So quit thinking about it, he told himself, and wade. But when he heard the howl, he stopped. He stared at David. David was staring back.

He leaned close and whispered to Max, "How far, do you think?"

"Hard to say. Iím not even sure which direction it came from."

"We should stop a minute and try to feel it."

"David, itís really gonna be hard to concentrate while Iím standing in the middle of a gator infested swamp ..."

David didnít budge. Max heaved a sigh, and then closed his eyes, looking inward for the warning gut-twist. But the only knot in his belly was for the invisible toothies slithering around his legs. This wasnít the distinctive, rocky clench that warned him of the Beastís approach. He shifted his shotgun to his left side, removed his right glove and brought his palm close enough to see it in the filtered moonlight of the swamp. He waited.

The pentagram was there. Dim, but fully formed. The Beast wasnít nearby, but it wasnít far off either.

Another howl wafted through the swamp gas and cypress. David looked straight ahead. "That way."