Ticket to Death (Haunted Collection Series)

A faded old ticket glows with an unholy light…Historian Victor Daniels never planned to devote his life to battling evil spirits, or tracking down a collection of cursed antiques unleashed by ruthless occultist Stefan Korzh. But after months of clashing with paranormal threats, he’s developed a reputation as an investigator of the strange and bizarre. So when a rash of mysterious deaths strikes Victor’s home state, an old friend reaches out to him for help.As Victor investigates the chilling mystery, he is shocked to discover that the victims all died by drowning… within the safety of their own homes. Another cursed antique has been unearthed, a ticket for a steamer ship that sank over a century ago. The worn scrap of paper is haunted by the vengeful ghost of a passenger, and it must gather the souls of the living to complete its final voyage.Before Victor can put a stop to the murderous spirit’s killing spree, Stefan takes their blood feud to the next level, when he captures Victor’s adopted son. Following the madman’s trail to his sleepy hometown, deep in the Pennsylvania woods, Victor must confront his nemesis face to face.The final clash between good and evil has begun, and only one man can emerge victorious…

From the Inside Flap

Excerpt from Chapter 2 Tom put his phone away and squashed the feeling of guilt that tried to rise up within him. He hated lying to Victor, but he knew it was a necessary evil."Everything good?" Byron asked."Everything's good," Tom replied. "Did you bring the stuff?"The slightly older teen grinned, revealing bad teeth and scarred gums. He gestured to a second teen Tom didn't know, a young man with terrible acne across his forehead."Mick," Byron said, "show the man what we brought."Mick nodded, his dirty blonde hair pulled back in a messy 'man-bun,' and removed a large suitcase from the back of a rusted Volkswagen Jetta. Byron's accomplice grunted and struggled beneath the weight of the luggage, the muscles on his neck standing out as he man-handled the case to a position between Byron and Tom. Panting, Mick stepped aside."As you can see," Byron said, motioning toward the suitcase, "I did. Did you bring yours?"Tom nodded and took the cash out of his pocket."Damn, son," Byron said, laughing. "That's a serious roll there. Where did you get that kind of money? You stick someone with a jammy?""What?" Tom asked, confused."A gun, son," Byron said, winking. "Or was it a pretend gun? You know, some paint-gun stripped down to look like a real nine mil.?""I didn't rob anyone," Tom said. "A friend gave it to me."And it was the truth.Bontoc was a friend, and the dead man had given it to him by telling him where to find the money. The cash had been put aside in case of an emergency while hunting Korzh. His death had precluded him from retrieving it, but not from telling Tom about it."Whatever helps you sleep at night," Byron said, chuckling. "Here's the deal. I get a grand for each claymore."Tom felt the heat of anger spread out from his stomach."That wasn't what we agreed on," he said in a low, calm voice."That was before I realized how much money you had, yo," Byron said, laughing. "It's a good deal. I mean, Mick and I could always just beat you up and take the money. Then you'd be out of cash and without your little friends."Tom put the money back in his pocket. His voice remained mellow as he spoke again."You're telling me that you and Mick will take the money from me?" Tom asked.Byron's face had gone hard when Tom put the money away."This ain't no joke, little boy," Byron snarled. "You best get that cash out and pay me for my merch.""I just want to be clear," Tom said, and he nodded at Mick. "He's going to help you?""Fool," Byron hissed. "Mick-"Before Byron could finish, Tom moved.He stepped hard and fast to the right before Mick had time to comprehend what was happening. Within a heartbeat, Tom was in front of the other teen, and he drove his right fist deep into Mick's side.The result was instantaneous.Mick's gasp of surprise turned into a scream of pain as he collapsed, hitting the rough dirt road with a thud. Even as he did so, Tom was moving again, reaching Byron in two steps while that teen was struggling to extract a semi-automatic pistol from his waistband.Tom's fist lashed out and struck Byron's right shoulder.Byron cursed as his arm went slack, and then he shouted as Tom drove his prosthetic into the other teen's kidney.Tom watched, perspiration gathering on his upper lip as Byron tumbled to the road, writhing in the dirt on his stomach. Stepping forward, Tom bent down and plucked the pistol out of the waistband. He moved his left arm experimentally and found that the prosthetic was still attached. For several weeks, he had worked on using thin iron bands as an inlay for the false arm. It added weight to the prosthetic, but he knew it would be useful should he encounter any of the dead who weren't particularly friendly.Tom put the pistol in his own waistband, took hold of the suitcase's handle, and moved away from the two other teens. Once he was a good twenty feet down the road, with both Byron and Mick in front of him where he could see them, Tom opened the suitcase.Inside were ten claymores mines, each with its trigger. Satisfied, Tom closed the suitcase. It was heavier than he thought it would be, and he knew it would take him longer to get home through the woods.Straightening up, Tom glanced at Byron and Mick. Byron had gotten into a sitting position, but his arm still hung limply at his side. Mick lay on his good side, weeping and moaning piteously."You only have one God-damned arm," Byron snapped, and Tom could see unspent tears in the young man's eyes."All I need," Tom replied. "You should have been fair and kept to the deal.""Screw you," Byron spat.Tom shrugged and picked up the suitcase. "Don't come looking for me.""Or what?" Byron sneered. "You'll kill us?""No," Tom said, turning his back on them. "Someone else will."A chill wind coursed along the dirt road and the two teens behind Tom screamed in horror. The sound made him smile, as did that of Bontoc's voice piercing the peace of the Pennsylvania woods.

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