Walter's Rifle (Haunted Collection Series)

The gleaming muzzle of a rifle burns with an insatiable desire, and its new owner is all too happy to comply…Haunted items are traversing the country and its ghosts are wreaking havoc on their new owners. At the center of the chaos is an old rifle possessed by a blood-thirsty specter, who dreams of massacres at every turn. Meanwhile, lurking in a nearby mailbox is an antique novel, possessed by a monster who takes pleasure in agonizing, heart-stopping torture. Stefan Korzh’s plan is unraveling flawlessly and he can’t imagine a better way of seeking revenge on the world. But Victor Daniels and Jeremy Rhinehart won’t let that happen. Recovering from their grisly encounters with the dead, they’re more prepared than ever before. They work on finding the sources of bloodshed and imprisoning the crazed collectibles.With murderous ghosts continuing to raise the death toll, Victor and Jeremy have their hands full. They race against time to stop the mayhem and save innocent bystanders. Fueled by their quest for revenge, each step brings them toward the culprit behind all the horror. But as they get closer to catching this madman, they discover how dangerous Stefan Korzh truly is…

From the Inside Flap

Chapter 1: Bolt Action Walter slid the bolt action back and advanced the round with one, smooth motion. He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and looked out onto the road. Trees lined either side of the street, their leaves brilliant with the colors of fall. Shades of orange and red that blazed in the early morning light. The world was quiet and peaceful; the stretch of Vermont in front of Walter was a calm oasis away from the insanity of modern life, a refuge from the unrelenting demands of others. Walter felt at ease, stretched out in the prone position on a poncho. From his place on a slight rise, he watched the length of asphalt below him over the iron sights of the rifle. Around him, the birds were silent, and the squirrels as well. The chipmunks that lived in the old, tumbled down stonewall Walter had settled behind remained hidden. Even the insects were silent. All Walter could hear were the sounds his body made. The steady rhythm of his heart, the smooth inhalation and exhalation of breath, the rumble of his stomach. He had eaten only a small amount at breakfast, and he would do the same at noon. But not any sooner. He was in a good place. Physically and mentally. Where the road curved, a shape appeared. It was a runner, and as the person drew closer, he saw it was a man. The stranger kept a strong pace, the slap of running shoes on asphalt reaching Walter's ears. Each muscle on the runner was well defined, his look focused, and there was no wasted movement as his form was perfect. Walter pulled the trigger, the rifle bucking against his shoulder. The round slammed into the runner, sending the man tumbling onto the asphalt. A moment later, a high-pitched shriek filled the morning air, and Walter smiled. He stood up, slung the rifle over his shoulder, and bent down to roll up the poncho. Soon he had it tied and under one arm. The runner continued to scream, but Walter knew it would do little good. The particular stretch of road he had chosen was a favorite for runners and long distance cyclists, but not drivers. Too many potholes, too much debris from old trees. Walter hooked a thumb under the sling of the rifle to keep it steady, and picked his way down the small hill he had positioned himself on. The closer he got to the road, the louder the cries of the wounded runner became. Walter rolled his eyes and shook his head, disgusted with the loud complaints of the injured man. When he reached the road, Walter stretched and shook his legs out, then took long strides towards the runner. He covered four hundred and twenty-nine feet before he reached the man and he was impressed with the amount of blood that had already leaked out. The runner's face was pale, his lips blue, and his entire body shaking. Blood loss would claim his life in a matter of minutes if the shock of the injury didn't do it first. Smiling, Walter squatted down beside the man and waited.

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