Reviewed by Publisher's Weekly
Nominated for the New Mexico Book Award
The Strand Magazine Reading List.
Fellowship & Award-Winning Writer
SPJ (Society of Professional Journalists)
Awards
Excerpt:
A stroll along the river usually calmed her. Still, Albuquerque’s crime rate had made national headlines so she tried to be alert to any threats.
After a few minutes, Olivia could tell her pulse had evened out and she was beginning to notice the birds and trees instead of her bothersome feelings. But something else concerned her. There was a fetid odor in this area. She dismissed it as a dead animal but it disturbed her enough that she dug in her coat pocket for her pollen and arrowhead. They weren’t there! Hadn’t she placed them in her pocket while talking with the reporter? When Blackstone cautioned about the others she had interviewed who had died or been scared, she remembered taking the bag out and showing her the contents. She checked the other pocket that held her fob and cell. Olivia could feel the panic rising in her throat, so she took out the phone. It made her more confident. Help was a phone call away.
She quickly turned. Behind her was nothing but an empty trail and the beginnings of another spectacular sunset. Ahead, a biker disappeared around a corner. The Rio Grande flowed to her left and there was no one exploring the banks or kayaking on the river. That left the treed area to her right. A few trees still held onto their autumn leaves, but most had turned brown and fallen to the ground. There was nothing apparent, but the feeling of trepidation would not go away. How could she have left her amulet and bag of pollen? And where did she leave them? It didn’t matter now. The only thing that mattered: something was stalking her and she couldn’t yet see it. She held her phone tightly.
A hawk flew overhead as she looked upward. The hawk didn’t worry her. These birds of prey were only a threat to a small mammal, with the occasional insect or lizard for variety.
It circled languidly. This time, it swooped down at her as a bird parent might defend a fledgling against a passing cat. The intent was obvious: to bully her. It was working. Olivia wanted to go. She no longer wanted to be outside and felt vulnerable, was vulnerable. Retracing her steps to the parking lot, she heard a sound behind her.
She kept walking, hoping it would go away. But the fear in her chest was fierce. It was difficult to breathe. She tried to control the shivering and her pounding heart. Her options had run out. Olivia knew she was no longer in charge of the situation. She had to turn around and face whatever was there.
After casually glancing about to appear unafraid, she came face to face with an evil witch. Its eyes held her, and she couldn’t look away. The elders always cautioned against staring directly at the eyes so the witch could not control thoughts. But it was too late. The red and glowing eyes allowed her to see only the beast.
It was sans clothing with fur covering its body and the neck heavy with jewelry. Its face and arms were grey. For a moment she thought it might be female, but never had she known of a female witch becoming malevolent. She knew this was imminent danger of the fatal kind. Without her arrowhead, she didn’t know how to defend herself. It could run faster, jump higher and climb better than she could. Her chances of harming it were slim. The body of a skinwalker was tough, maybe impenetrable. With only the useless cell in her hand she stood silently, because who could she call to intervene?
