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A Short Trip To Hell: Hellcat Series Origins Volume 1
A Short Trip To Hell: Hellcat Series Origins Volume 1
A Short Trip To Hell: Hellcat Series Origins Volume 1
Ebook54 pages52 minutes

A Short Trip To Hell: Hellcat Series Origins Volume 1

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A collection of never-been-told-before short stories that will give you exclusive insight into some of the more enigmatic characters from the Hellcat Series by revealing the most significant events in their early lives. Delve into the events that shaped these individuals into the characters you know and love.
Be warned these are not cheerful stories; most often strong characters are forged in the flames of fire and torment. Some will have their happy ending, while others never expect redemption.
While you can, of course, read this collection at any point, the author suggests that to get the most out of it, it should be read after Book 4 in the Hellcat Series. She feels that is when the reader will most appreciate and understand the effects these background stories have on the characters and those around them.
She also says Hellions RULE!

LanguageEnglish
Release dateDec 15, 2014
ISBN9781311494856
A Short Trip To Hell: Hellcat Series Origins Volume 1
Author

Sharon Hannaford

Sharon has been calling herself a writer since she was eight years old. She wrote her first auto-biography at age ten. As a teenager, she was teased about being a witch, because she wore lots of black and walked around with her black, Oriental cat on a lead. She never disagreed too loudly, after all, that may have drawn attention to the herd of unicorns that lived in her back garden. Born and raised in South Africa, she has called New Zealand home since 2008. Her life consists largely of looking after her husband, two kids, three cats, a dog, a pony and a horse, but her working day is spent writing, and her occasional hours off usually include books, horses or a glass of good red wine. Though she has had many jobs over the years, her favourite is, without doubt, being paid to write about the characters who take up residence in her head. After an early foray into writing for children, Sharon discovered Urban Fantasy; the genre that felt as though it had been created with her in mind. She loves nothing more than to create strong-willed, female lead characters, who challenge those around them almost as much as they challenge themselves. Sharon also loves animals of all shapes and sizes. She has owned all the usual suspects one would keep as a pet, and a few more exotic ones thrown in for good measure. She spent her teens working at a tourist farm and animal park, and as a result has handled everything from porcupines and warthogs, to ferrets and hedgehogs. She has been surrogate mom to many orphans including; kittens, lambs and an eagle owl. No matter how hard she tries, animals always seem to steal the limelight in her novels. She loves to hear from readers and welcomes messages via any of the usual channels.

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    Book preview

    A Short Trip To Hell - Sharon Hannaford

    A Short Trip to Hell

    (Hellcat Series Origins Volume 1)

    by

    Sharon Hannaford

    COPYRIGHT

    A Short Trip to Hell (Hellcat Series Origins Volume 1)

    Sharon Hannaford

    Copyright © 2014 by Sharon Hannaford

    Smashwords Edition

    All rights reserved

    This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and occurrences are fictitious and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

    No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or means, electronic or mechanical, without permission from the copyright holder.

    DEDICATION
    For my readers.

    SO THIS IS HELL

    Fergus

    (Early 18th century, Scottish Highlands)

    They came at night, as Fergus had known they would. They came in great numbers, as he’d thought they would. McDougal, coward that he was, didn’t come himself, as Fergus had suspected. But they brought one thing he hadn’t counted on; one thing he couldn’t even have imagined. One too fast, too strong, too indestructible. One who bared fangs and laughed darkly. One that looked like a man; of slight build, a little too thin, with a pasty complexion, an untidy beard and long hair. One that spoke like a man, with a supercilious sneer and an accent he’d never heard before. One that even bled like a man when you were fast enough to cut it. But one that wasn’t a man. Not a man at all, but a legend, a folk tale, a monster to scare children into their beds.

    A Vampire.

    The men, not even McDougal’s clan but hired mercenaries, toyed with him, jeering scornfully as they set upon him all at once. And so he fought in the silver-white light of the full moon, in his courtyard, not prepared to allow their filth to defile his residence. He spun and parried, struck and defended, his great sword glinting as it sliced through the crisp night air, cutting and blocking. Within minutes several of the men lay dead or wounded, the others backing down, beginning to doubt that their pay was worth their lives.

    And then the Vampire stepped from the shadows, nonchalantly knocking several of the men aside with a twitch of its arm. It yanked a sword from one of the fallen, and began circling Fergus with knowing eyes and a hideous grin.

    Scotsman, you fight well, it said. While its accent was thick its English was perfect. You won’t beat me, but even a small challenge will be a welcome distraction. With a lightning fast feint and a casual flick of the sword it broke through Fergus’s defences and sliced a bloody wound across the Scotsman’s right bicep. Fergus didn’t feel the laceration, only the simmering anger. It beggared belief that McDougal, a man almost family, would send one such as this against him, to exact revenge. The animosity had been simmering for months, and the past few weeks had ignited into outright war over the disputed territory. The tit for tat had escalated until only a fight to the death would satisfy, but McDougal had taken it too far by sending this supernatural assassin instead of coming himself. He was a disgrace to name and to Scotland. The outrage spurred Fergus on.

    He’d heard the legends, not even a monster like this could survive without a head. He’d take that head if it was the last thing he did. And so he watched as the creature circled and feinted, taking its measure, looking for weaknesses. And then he truly began to fight, knowing it was to the death, and determined to see McDougal rot in Hell for his transgressions.

    It could have been hours later that his knees met the hard-packed ground, the squat buildings of his deserted estate blurring before his eyes as the remaining mercenaries hollered and jeered like cavorting demons. His right arm hung limply at his side, a hundred wounds, some shallow, some deep, scored his body. Blood seeped into his kilt, sticking the coarse fabric to his skin and sweat trickled to join the red rivulets trailing down his face, chest and back. With his head dropping in defeat, he watched the dark puddle slowly spreading into the grass beneath him, creeping

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