The Hellgate

Book summary

Dive into four harrowing tales of horror. Journey through the sinister streets of Victorian London with Jack the Ripper, navigate through a nightmarish scenario of resurrected Templar knights in France, survive a ghastly family vacation on a secluded island, and uncover a strange serial killer's deeds in a quiet Iowa town. Each story uniquely explores fear, survival, and the dark unknown, intertwining suspense, terror, and occasional dark humor in a thrilling blend.

Excerpt from The Hellgate

It had been one heck of a day off, fighting fire, doctoring, finding contraband weapons and a corpse, exposing certain arson and probable murder, with plenty of report writing on the side, not to mention the day-ending impromptu meeting with brass and bugles where the order, “Keep your mouth shut” was repeated until his head swam. Ben was all in. And he was staying in.

Ben lived in the old Port District in a closed brewery being renovated into apartments. His was the only unit so far and he the only tenant. The building was said to be haunted and, he had to admit, there were nights when it got spooky. There were always sounds of 'settling' and odds bits of light sometimes flashed in the corners of his eyes. But he believed it was mostly his imagination. He'd met no ghosts; just creaks, and groans, and 'what's-that' noises that were probably nothing at all. As sociable as a ghost himself, one sound Ben rarely heard was his own doorbell. When it rang that night, he opened the door with guarded curiosity.

On the other side, lit by a single bulb in the unfinished hall, stood a cop, Sergeant Erin Vanderjagt. Ben raised a brow. “Good evening, officer.”

“Good evening. Could I have a word?”

He stepped back and waved her in. “Please.”

Erin stepped in; Ben closed the door. He took her in his arms. She wrapped hers around his neck. They melted together, sagged against the door, and disappeared in a kiss. The rotten day vanished.

Sometime later the doodads on Erin's gun belt stabbed Ben and they came up for air. He began the work necessary to secretly love a lady cop. He took the belt, all twenty-two pounds with holster and gun, re-loaders, pepper spray, handcuffs, and radio holster (sans radio), by the front and with Herculean effort undid the double buckle. The belt slid off Erin's slim hips and onto the nearest chair.

“No, no,” she said. She grabbed the belt, folded it, and carried it to his kitchen cupboard. “Safety first,” she added, returning to his arms. The uniform shirt came next, hastily unbuttoned and peeled away to expose a Kevlar bulletproof vest. Ben sighed, Erin laughed. Determined, he eventually found the slim blonde beneath but not before the mood had been seriously disrupted. Both were laughing.

“Artichokes and onions are a cinch compared to you.”

“Yes,” she said. “But I'm better eating.”

Ben would have agreed but he didn't get the chance. The cop spun out of his arms and was peeling off the armor. “Oh, what a day from Hell. I blame you for it.”

“Me?” he asked innocently. “Why me? I didn't buy your speeder a drink. I didn't blow up a house. I'm so far down the chain of command, I barely register as a peasant. What the heck did I do?”

“I can handle the drunks. I can even handle the explosions. But then you came along…” she looked around and dropped her voice to a whisper, “…and found hand grenades and a body.”

“And reported them like a good little brown shirt.”

“That's the problem. You should have buried them again.”

Ben laughed. “Lead to a little red tape, did they?”

“You couldn't have caused more excitement if you'd thrown a slut over a prison wall. Your chief wants them for the fire marshal. My chief wants them for the feds. They argued in whispers so the press didn't hear it. Being brothers-in-law, they'd probably still be fighting it out, but who sneaks in to add politics to the legal nightmare? Jerry Light.”

“What's the mayor got to do with it?”

“You are kidding, right? That little tin god? He ordered them both to shut their mouths. They are to offer no information on the corpse, which is fine because there isn't any information on the corpse, and to pretend the munitions don't exist until he can decide what to do about them.”

“Where's he get the authority?”

“From the back of his lap. But, since the police chief and fire chief are both appointed by the mayor, he who works beneath the gold dome makes the rules. And because the burn victim, I mean the live one, the survivor, is some kind of foreigner… You knew that?”