Shattered Dreams (Banshee Series)

Death is coming…Benton has always dreamed through the eyes of killers. But recently, his dreams have changed into an unreadable pattern of shapes and screams. Death is coming, he can feel it in his bones, but he can’t tell who’s next in line.In a desperate attempt to organize his thoughts, Benton travels to a sleep center in a neighboring town. It’s a short distance, only a few hours along a deserted highway, but there’s nothing easy about the journey. The lonesome road is plagued with mystery and murder. Lost souls linger along the highway…furious, violent, and relentless souls. They’re constantly searching for others to join them in death. Benton can see them. They can definitely see him.Getting to the center is torturous but what he finds is worse than anything he could have ever imagined. A violent storm is brewing. Demonic forces ride the raging winds and become a swarm that seeks to destroy all life it encounters. Their eyes are set on Fort Wayward and if Benton can’t warn the unsuspecting town, the demons will claim every last soul.The storm is coming. The spirits are rising. And death lingers on the highway of the lost...

From the Inside Flap

The bathroom was old but clean, with only two stalls and pale walls. Even though he had to impatiently wait for his turn, there was still a line when he was done. He was washing up when he discovered just how good their hot water system was. The steaming water sloshing over his frozen hands felt incredible and he wallowed in the luxury of having his blood running into his fingers once again. Once they felt warm and plump, he pulled off his sunglasses and washed his face. The sensation made pins-and-needles crackle across his lips and cheeks. He kept splashing the water over his face until the pain subsided and he was feeling less like a living snowman. Turning off the tap, he blindly tugged a few paper towels from the dispenser and dried himself off. The rough edges of the paper scraped across his cheek when the sensation of being watched came back with a higher intensity. His now sensitive skin made the shift in temperature instantly noticeable. It was an encroaching warmth, as if someone was standing right behind him, almost draped against his curled spine. A heavy sigh brushed past his ear, the moisture of the breath clinging to his skin. Benton whirled around, one arm striking out to shove back the person crowded against him. The bathroom was empty. The low drone of the florescent lights broke the silence as the lingering traces of a person's body heat evaporated from his back. Throwing the wadded paper into the sink, he strode towards the door, grabbing the doorknob just as a hand latched around his ankle. One swift jerk and he was wretched off of his feet. He was barely able to break his fall as he was slammed down painfully against the tiles. Before he could understand what had just happened, he was being dragged back. He clawed at the floor but couldn't find something to grip. Hands grappled their way up his legs, their fingers digging against his tender flesh with an iron grasp. He thrashed out, kicking sharply, but his feet never found anything solid. The hands reached his hips and easily flipped him onto his back. He bolted upright and saw her. A woman was crawling her way out of the floor, her movements swift but broken as she hurled herself higher up his body. Muddy clumps of earth dripped from her skin and thumped against his stomach. Her hair, matted and reeking of rot, swayed with the jolts of her limbs. Rearing up to level her face with Benton's, the woman opened her mouth and spewed wet earth over his chest. It hit him like arctic water, startling him out of his stunned state and igniting his survival instinct. He shoved her off and surged to his feet. The soles of his shoes slipped and skidded over the muck covered tiles making him stumble as he tried to flee to the door. Flinging it open, he threw himself out, smacked into someone, and turned around to catch sight of the woman crawling after him just as the door swung shut.

About the Author

Growing up in the endless summer of Australia, Sara Clancy was always fascinated with the macabre. It gave her an opportunity to satisfy her cravings for all things spooky and strange, and indulge in a world of mystery. Currently living near a beach she never visits, she enjoys writing horror, spending most of her pay checks on books, and devotes a great deal of time and energy to fictional characters. She also enjoys talking through movies, but understands that's a private indulgence.

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