Hello, and thanks for stopping by.

Tonight I will be releasing the first preview of my forthcoming book, Where the Darkness Reigns – to be released on 28 February 2018.

Where the Darkness Reigns is the final instalment of the Dark Places trilogy, which began with Within the Dark Places, followed by Where the Darkness Hides. If you have read the previous books, hopefully you’ll remember Where the Darkness Hides ended on a cliff-hanger and Where the Darkness Reigns picks up right from where we left off. If you haven’t read the previous two instalments you can order a copy using the following links. Both books are available in ebook and paperback:

While Where the Darkness Reigns concludes the story of protagonist Joe Costello, it introduces new characters who reside in the world of Raven’s Peak (the town in which the trilogy is set) and acts to set up the wider shared universe.

So the preview… well it was difficult to decide which chapter to reveal first. I don’t want to give too much away, and I don’t want to spoil the ending of the previous book for those who haven’t read it yet. With new characters in minds, I thought I would introduce one of them, but at the same time give a little insight to the previous two books for new readers. The following preview does this perfectly. I hope you enjoy what you read and that you are intrigued enough to pre-order a copy – http://amzn.eu/cUSXFvj

All the best,

Duncan.

The Diary of Chris Silversmith

Last night was the third Shade encounter this month. Without a doubt, they are certainly increasing. I think this is now the twelfth in two years. The more I think about it, the more I am certain the incident at Raven’s Peak police station was the start of it. There had been plenty of ghost sightings in Raven’s Peak beforehand, but they were standard hauntings, or poltergeists. These Shades, as I have named them, are something else entirely. They appear to be made from darkness itself – they certainly have an aversion to light, and as we have seen, it is clear why.

      Our first encounter was approximately two months after the police station incident. There had been two cases of spontaneous human combustion at the old textile mill down by the canal on the south side of town. The mill hasn’t been used since the 1950s, but the building is rich in lead and copper piping, as well as the slate roof. It’s the perfect target for thieves, so the building owners like to keep security guards on site. It was two of the guards who had burst into flame.

      Alexis and I had certainly read plenty of books on the phenomenon, but we had yet to come across a case here in Raven’s Peak. The two reports in the space of one week and in the same location, nonetheless, were the perfect opportunity to investigate.

      We approached those on guard duty, posing as journalists from the Science & Wonder magazine (I had just made it up on the spot, but the guard seemed keen for five minutes of fame and was happy to show us around).

      He led us by torchlight; he explained that the electricity had been disconnected decades ago. The lack of light and the shadows cast by the retired machinery made this the perfect place for these Shades to hide.

      And then the shadows began to move.

      That was when the temperature dropped, contradicting everything we understood about human combustion. As it grew cold, the air grew stale and smelt like sulphur.

      What happened next – well, I can only describe it as though a mass of shadows swallowed the security guard. We saw glimpses of him, his arms, his legs, being dragged to the far side of the factory.

      Naturally, we gave chase. As we shone our torches in the direction of the guard, the shadows dispersed. He lay unconscious, and as I knelt to check for injuries, an intense heat radiated from him. Hesitantly, I touched his brow, and as I did so he began to convulse, coughing up an oily black liquid. The suddenness of this caused me to jump back, and I’m glad I did; that’s when he burst into flames.

      As quickly as the flames had erupted, they died, leaving a pile of ash and scorch marks on the floor. Above the scorched remains of the guard hovered a shadow – a Shade.

      The creature screamed, a high-pitched wail capable of shattering glass. As it cried, others of its kind began to materialise from the shadows surrounding us.

      We spun round, shining our torches left and right, desperately searching for a way out. Frantic as we were, my torchlight caught a Shade. It screamed and exploded in a cloud of dust. As it did, the others retreated momentarily, allowing us to make a break for it.

      We returned the next evening, better prepared with stronger, more powerful torches. We set lanterns around the old mill, making sure every room and every corridor was illuminated. We gave them few places to hide, and soon every single Shade in that building was dust.

      We thought that would be the end of it. But then other sightings slowly began to be reported.

***

Chris Silversmith glanced at his watch; it read 5:30. To most people, he would appear to be an early riser – if he had actually been to bed. He had been working all night, writing up the notes from his encounter in the Arts and Crafts Centre.

His mobile phone began to ring; a guitar riff made famous by Eric Clapton sounded from its speaker, the device edging its way across the desk as it vibrated. He picked it up and glanced at the screen. The caller ID read DO NOT ANSWER!!! EVER!!! He dropped the call before Clapton’s vocals kicked in, and went back to his work. The phone rang again, replaying the opening riff to Layla.

‘Shit, what does she want?’ With reluctance, he accepted the call, taking a deep breath before he answered. ‘I told you never to call me!’

‘Oh don’t be like that, honey. I bet you’re pleased to hear from me really!’

‘Piss off!’ He was about to drop the call again when he heard Layla shriek down the phone.

‘Chris, don’t hang up! I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t urgent!’

He rolled his eyes. ‘What could be so urgent that you would need to call your ex at 5:30 in the morning?’

Layla got straight to the point. ‘Do you know what the phrase “When a man of heavenly worth sins in Hell, darkness shall reign on Earth” means?’

There was a moment’s silence, and then Layla spoke again.

‘Got your attention, haven’t I, honey?’

‘I’m thinking. And don’t call me honey.’ Chris leant back in his chair and tapped the roof of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. ‘It rings a bell, but other than that… Bye!’    He was about to hang up for the second time when she shrieked again. Chris held the phone away from his ear and grimaced as the screaming passed. ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that. You sound like a spoilt two-year-old.’

‘Well, how else can I get you to talk to me? Look, I’m not asking for me. There is a woman here who desperately needs answers, and between you and me, since I heard the phrase myself, the spirits have been going absolutely bananas. They will not shut up.’

Chris pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at the screen. He had witnessed her speaking with the spirits on many occasion when they had dated, but he couldn’t help wonder if his ex-girlfriend was a tad schizophrenic. Yet, in his line of work, he kept an open mind.

He put the phone back to his ear. ‘Uh-huh…’

‘I’m serious, Chris…’ The tone of her voice changed. All the bravado and cockiness was gone, replaced with fear and desperation. ‘Chris, I think it’s some kind of an omen. I just have the feeling something really dreadful will happen if we don’t figure it out.’

Chris rubbed the back of his neck, then wriggled in his chair, cracking the stiffness out of his back. Maybe it was the tiredness kicking in, but he surrendered. ‘Alright, alright. Give me twelve hours to look into it. I’ll call you when I find something.’

‘Thank you, honey.’ Layla giggled, and the call ended.

Chris threw the phone across the desk. ‘I must be shit-house crazy to get involved with her again.’