The corners of his lips lifted into a smirk, and the detective's stomach plummeted as the barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead. "Salt can't save you now, Tinsley."
A string of horrific deaths plague the town of Sunny Heights shortly after it's anarchical takeover by the infamous mob leader Ricky Goldsworth. Pitched into a abysmal hell of death, violence, and destruction, detective C.C. Tinsley struggles to make sense of the murders and uncover the perpetrator before he becomes the next victim. However, he didn't expect the investigation to tangle with the paranormal world...
"You don't get it, do you?" Her voice, high-pitched and faint, sent a shiver down his spine. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees, and the trail of steam from his coffee that lazily drifted into the air moments before was nowhere to be found.
"Rose..." He trailed off as he glanced up, horrified at the sight before him. Rose's eyes glistened, despite containing a black deeper than the mind could imagine. A pair of dark, mangled horns sprouted from her head, contorting and twisting to create a crown only the devil himself could fathom. But the thing that terrified Tinsley the most wasn't the newfound horns, or the eyes, despite him being able to see his own fearful reflection in them.
It was the smile.
Deep crimson blood dripped from fangs that peeked out of wickedly curved lips. Rose slowly leant forward, and a single drop fell into Tinsley's abandoned coffee as he watched in horror.
"You see, Charles," she purred, running a cold, slimy finger down his face, "some people never left."
He was ruthless, cold-hearted, the definition of fear. He had secrets.
She was strong-minded and independent but gifted with the warm heart HE lacked.
.................................................................
Rosa Anderson was an inspired writer, living alone in a little apartment in the city of Brisbane, Australia. However, where she was in her current job was at the bottom of where she wanted to be in the future. She was a secretary of a big company, where she assisted editors and writers with their administrative needs. She was great at her job, sharp, agile and on point in her work, to impress the big bosses so she could one day sit in their seats and be the writer she'd dreamt of being.
But there was one boss, one boss in particular, that she could not impress. The new boss came and bought the company, alongside many other side hustles he had. He was known to be shut off to the world and any man or woman who came onto his path. He was heartless and an absolute prick of a man that no one favoured, but he was good at business and business alone. ALONE HE WAS. He was nothing like the open books he read and published. He was a closed book with a past he could not escape.
His name was Alexander Pearson.