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One Touch of Silver: The Brothers Salem
One Touch of Silver: The Brothers Salem
One Touch of Silver: The Brothers Salem
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One Touch of Silver: The Brothers Salem

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Meet the Salem woman who started it all in this prequel novella set in the turbulent 1930s.

Silver Salem is well-educated in classical languages, ancient history, and the secrets of the occult. But during America’s Great Depression, she’s also desperate for work. When she receives an urgent request, she accepts it without asking too many questions. 

Collier Dunne is no ordinary client: bad-tempered, reclusive, and handsome as sin. He needs Silver to translate an ancient document before the next full moon. All Silver knows for sure is that Coll is hiding a painful past…and that she desperately wants to be part of his future. 

Silver must trust her own growing power and defeat the darkness threatening them both. And the Halloween moon is rising fast…

A prequel novella in The Brother Salem, a new contemporary paranormal romance series where a trio of demon hunters--armed with spells and snark--are on a mission to slay some demons, break some curses, and get their girls. Unless the girls get them first.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateOct 3, 2017
ISBN9781942316237
One Touch of Silver: The Brothers Salem

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    One Touch of Silver - Elizabeth Cole

    One Touch of Silver

    by Elizabeth Cole

    Silver Salem is well-educated in classical languages, ancient history, and the secrets of the occult. But during America’s Great Depression, she’s also desperate for work. When she receives an urgent request, she accepts it without asking too many questions.

    Collier Dunne is no ordinary client: bad-tempered, reclusive, and handsome as sin. He needs Silver to translate an ancient document before the next full moon. All Silver knows for sure is that Coll is hiding a painful past…and that she desperately wants to be part of his future.

    Silver must trust her own growing power and defeat the darkness threatening them both. And the Halloween moon is rising fast…

    SkySpark Books

    Copyright © 2017

    Cover design by James T. Egan, www.bookflydesign.com.

    Edited by Amanda Valentine, ayvalentine.com.

    Secrets of the Zodiac by Elizabeth Cole

    Get your free books: elizabethcole.co/newsletter

    Also by Elizabeth Cole

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    Regency Rhapsody Novellas

    Regency Rhapsody – The Complete Collection

    One Touch of Silver

    New Jersey, 1931

    Silver Salem stepped onto the train station platform and wondered if she’d discovered the end of the world. The town of Seagrove, New Jersey existed to lure summertime tourists to the Atlantic shore. It was now mid-October, so Silver expected it to be quiet. She didn’t expect it to be abandoned.

    A clouded sky stretched over a few long streets running parallel to the boardwalk. The trees along those streets were almost bare, though some still stubbornly wore orange, amber, and yellow leaves despite the cold breeze whipping in from the ocean. Several blocks away, a black car turned a corner and vanished from her sight, the only hint of life around.

    A hissing sound emanated from the case Silver held in one hand. She raised the case to peer into the screened front. Two yellow eyes gleamed out, and the hiss came again.

    I don’t like it either, Piewicket, she confessed to the cat. But we’ve got little choice. Silver had almost no money left in her accounts, so this job was really her last hope if she wished to keep her family home and put food on the table.

    Are you quite sure someone’s meeting you, ma’am?

    Silver looked over at the railway valet, who had just deposited the rest of her bags on the platform. Yes. Well, fairly sure.

    It’s just…it’s the off season now, the valet said.

    An understatement, Silver thought. The Atlantic Ocean loomed as an endless misty grey in the east, where the equally misty sky was now darkening from grey to black. She was the only passenger to alight at the station.

    I wired ahead, she continued, less confidently. My host knows I am coming. And if he is late, I shall go to the hotel.

    But ma’am, didn’t you know? The hotel’s closed.

    Closed entirely? she asked. I was informed it was open year round.

    Normally. But there was a fire just at the end of the season, and it won’t reopen till spring, when the repairs are complete.

    Oh. Silver tried to smile, but a needle of doubt stabbed her. Well, if Mr. Dunne fails to arrive here, I’ll leave the bags and walk to his home. How far can any place be in this town? Oh, Silver, you outsmarted yourself this time.

    You can re-board, ma’am, the valet offered. The train departs in ten minutes. You’ll be back in the city by midnight. Five hotels within a block of the station.

    Silver considered the offer, but shook her head. I must keep my appointment. The matter is vital. Especially to her.

    Last train of the day, ma’am.

    Thank you, she said. But I’ll be fine.

    Ten minutes later, the train departed with a long whistle that faded along with the gleaming railcars. Silver watched as it vanished among the dunes and pines, then held her breath as she felt the deep silence the train’s engine had concealed.

    Other than the murmur of the ocean surf, there was nothing. No motor cars, no shouts of children, or conversations of adults. No church bells, no clatter of wheels. A ghost town.

    Piewicket mewed in frustration, clawing at the fabric walls of her case.

    Stop that, Silver warned.

    I’ve been cooped up for hours, Piewicket complained, her feline voice loud in Silver’s mind.

    Silver sighed. I’ll let you out as soon as I can. He should be here any minute. I told him which train we were on. She was glad no one was around to hear her speaking to the cat. It was always awkward to explain that she was merely responding to the creature’s telepathy.

    She waited a quarter hour on the platform, where the cold wind cut past her ankle-length wool skirt and corduroy jacket. Her hair kept slipping loose from the bun she sequestered it in, and heavy, dark curls lashed across her face. She swept them back each time, in defiance of the wind.

    Just to be certain, Silver glanced over the letter that the client sent a week ago, asking for assistance in translating an ancient document. Such requests frequently arrived at the Salem house, and Silver often took on translation work for a fee. Yes, there was the line, inviting Professor Salem to come to Seagrove to do the work on site, mentioning a heartwarming sum as compensation.

    Silver had sent a telegram back, indicating by what train she expected to arrive.

    Now, however, no one was there to greet her. It seemed Dunne forgot about the appointment.

    We’ll have to walk, she muttered.

    You should charge the client more for this indignity, Piewicket opined. The cat was very sensitive to matters of dignity.

    First I must find the client, Silver said.

    She dragged her luggage to a sheltered place under the roof, then set out to find Mr. Dunne’s house, carrying Piewicket’s case in one hand and a small suitcase of essentials in the other.

    It was not difficult to find. He called it Hill House in his letters, and there was only one hill in sight. The rest of the land around Seagrove rose no higher than the gentle roll of sand dunes, and beyond the town to the west lay only salt marsh and pine forests.

    The hill was farther than it appeared, and the Victorian mansion perched at the top seemed to grow no closer for a long time.

    Silver kept up a steady stride. Despite her plump figure, she was a good walker, and she was fueled by indignation as well. How dare Mr. Dunne leave her waiting at the station? What sort of host did that?

    Then she passed through the iron gate marking the edge of Dunne’s property. She paused for an instant, certain she felt a warm tingle of magic, perhaps a spell of protection. Or perhaps she was merely beginning to freeze in the misty wind.

    Hill House loomed in her vision, stark and lonely in the failing day. It was autumn, so trees that might appear sheltering in summer stood bare as skeletons, their inky branches stretching up like bony fingers to scratch at the sky. A single raven launched itself from a high branch, cawing as it went.

    The grass was rank, the few shrubs ragged with neglect. Holly and yew bordered the path, both evergreen. Ivy covered much of the brick facade, also green and vital. In fact, it seemed to want to smother the house itself. Plants of protection against evil, she thought, though they were often found in common gardens.

    A few windows glowed with faint light. So the house was not deserted. She exhaled, realizing how nervous she was. She had feared Mr. Dunne would not

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