In the meantime, here's your first tast of the next Soccer Moms novel!
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The buzzing of her phone drew Francine Coy-Astin out of a deep sleep. The barest light passed through the sheer white drapes of her bedroom. God help her, she hated autumn. The shorter days meant she wasn’t getting enough sunlight, which in turn meant a lack of vitamin D and a corresponding lack of energy.
Whoever it was calling her would leave a message. She snuggled deeper into the lavender-scented pillows and reached for Neal, but her body only met cooler sheets. That’s right. Her husband left early this morning for his monthly meeting with the sales team. Bless him, he’d managed to get dressed and leave without waking her.
Nor did their daughter Brittany have school today. Francine made a point of setting up all her appointments with Brittany’s teachers on Thursday so they could have this one Friday to sleep in a little.
The buzzing of the phone stopped, only to start again. Francine groaned and rolled over to reach for the device. If it was Mom calling to complain about the “hooligans” next door at their Florida condominium again, Francine would turn off the damn phone.
Instead, the caller ID said “Penny”.
That jerked Francine out of her semi-conscious state. Penny knew better than to call this early in the morning, which meant it was something she couldn’t handle as Pestilence. Francine sat up and tapped the answer icon. “What’s wrong?”
“My mother-in-law just showed up on my doorstep.” Penny sounded like she was about to hyperventilate.
“Girl, you had a nightmare,” Francine said soothingly. When the hell had she switched roles with Penny? She was Miz Practical, not Francine. “Your mother-in-law passed away. She’s in her grave in Oakfield Cemetery—”
“No, she’s not,” Penny hissed. “She’s sitting in my living room. Edward and Justine are eating breakfast in the kitchen, and they’re going to discover Laura any moment.”
“That can’t be.” Despite all the weirdness with demons over the last couple of weeks, this went one step too far. “She died. We went to her funeral—”
“Francine, what’s the fifth seal of Revelations?” Penny’s voice had an edge of hysteria.
The rising of the dead from their graves. That rhetorical question swept away the last sleep cobwebs. “Shit,” Francine muttered. “Let me get dressed, and I’ll be right over.”
##
After warning Brittany to stay inside and keep the doors locked until Francine returned, she pulled into the Hudson’s driveway fifteen minutes later. She wasn’t about to put her own daughter in danger if Penny’s zombie mother-in-law was actually inside the Hudson’s house.
Stopped at a traffic light, Francine’s favorite local radio station broke for news. She didn’t pay attention until the announcer chuckled. “On a local note, police arrested a man at the Oakfield court house. He claimed he was one of our city’s founders, Jebediah Hauser, and demanded that people get off his property. My assistant Kat did a little digging on this one, and Hauser did in fact own the land where the courthouse sits. His widow sold the property to Ebenezer Dorchester in 1799.”
Francine bit her lower lip. She didn’t find mental illness funny at all. She hoped the man got the care he needed. But what if Penny was right and the Fifth Seal had broken? What if the man the police arrested was the real Jebediah Hauser risen from the dead?
The light turned green, and Francine pressed the accelerator. Her skin tingled, an indication her Horseman Famine wanted to rear her ugly head. She tried to focus on the two boxes of crème-filled Long Johns sitting in the passenger seat to keep her alter ego in check. The other girls had to concentrate to bring forth their Four Horsemen personas, or rather their Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse as Wila liked to call them. Francine had the opposite problem. She had to concentrate to keep hers in check. As she found out the hard way when she accidentally started a riot at the Oakfield Buffet one afternoon with her supernatural hunger.
Francine pulled next to the curb in front of Penny’s house. The construction workers who replaced the splintered front door and its frame had done an excellent job. They just needed to be painted to match the shutters and trim, and no one would know anything had happened.
Except she did. She’d smacked Penny’s husband Gene with her scales right through the old door. The only reason he was still alive was thanks to the bastard demon who had possessed him.
Francine cut off the engine of her minivan, grabbed one box of the pastries, and a wad of napkins. Her seat vibrated, an indication Sable sensed something out of the ordinary. If Penny really did have her mother-in-law inside, Sable undoubtedly picked up on the dead woman’s presence.
“You need to stay here and behave yourself.” Francine patted the dashboard. “Penny would know if it was a demon.”
She exited her vehicle/horse and jogged up the couple of steps to Penny’s front porch. The wind carried that first sharp hint of winter and seemed determined to pull off the remaining red leaves from the oak trees along the street. Not bothering to ring the doorbell, she pressed the latch of the new front door and shoved it open.
The door to the formal living room was closed. Penny only closed off the living room when Gene had his medical colleagues over for one of their get-togethers. Muddy footprints caked the entryway mat, and more dirt was scattered on the hardwood flooring in a direct path to living room.
Francine closed the front door, unsure of how to proceed. If she knocked, she’d alert Edward and Justine something was going on. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, turned off the sound on the device, and texted Penny.
I’m right outside the living room door. Safe to come in?
A second later, Francine’s phone vibrated with Penny’s reply.
Yes
Francine sucked in a deep breath, pushed down in the latch, and opened the door. A woman with disheveled brunette hair and wearing a very filthy pale blue linen spring suit sat on the couch next to Penny. She resembled Penny’s mother-in-law if you erased twenty or thirty years and the ravages of her ovarian cancer. Both women clutched mugs of coffee, Penny’s favorite pumpkin spice and peppermint for the other woman from the odors.
Penny’s shoulders relaxed a bit at Francine’s entrance. “Thank you for coming over.”
The other woman looked at Francine and smiled. “Hello, Francine.” She may have needed a shower and clean clothes, but with that pleasant expression, she definitely looked just like Penny’s late mother-in-law Laura Hudson.
Francine held up her box. “Anyone want a Long John?”
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