Undead Acres Novels & Stories

I yearn for it and don’t, both at the same time. There are stirrings in the packhouse as the unborn dawn draws nearer—more than I remember there being—frenzied, rushing sounds and anxious voices. Then I remember the strangeness—that Candlewood’s plaza and most of the Main street shops, offices and apartment buildings were destroyed. In an undead apocalypse. And if it hadn’t been for my mate the fae goddess, we’d likely all be dead. It’s so absurd, if I hadn’t been there myself, I wouldn’t believe it.