The Cure (Book 2 Tugurlan Chronicles)

Bruce and I sought refuge in his secluded cabin, waiting for our friends Shen and Dao-Ming to return. But their plane landed empty, and a chilling void fills the air. Meanwhile, Shen finds himself back in the neon-soaked nightmare of Las Vegas, seeking a familiar face, Tatyana, who holds the key to a perilous secret. And she, in turn, finds herself under the unexpected care of a mysterious woman named Elsa. As ancient threats resurface and new dangers emerge, our paths diverge and converge in a desperate race against time. Can we unravel the threads of deception and protect those we care for before the darkness consumes us all?

The Cure (Book 2 Tugurlan Chronicles)

Bruce and I sought refuge in his secluded cabin, waiting for our friends Shen and Dao-Ming to return. But their plane landed empty, and a chilling void fills the air. Meanwhile, Shen finds himself back in the neon-soaked nightmare of Las Vegas, seeking a familiar face, Tatyana, who holds the key to a perilous secret. And she, in turn, finds herself under the unexpected care of a mysterious woman named Elsa. As ancient threats resurface and new dangers emerge, our paths diverge and converge in a desperate race against time. Can we unravel the threads of deception and protect those we care for before the darkness consumes us all?

The biting chill of late spring in the Southern Tier of New York seeped into the cabin, a stark contrast to the burning ache in Bruce's muscles. He paced the creaking floorboards of the porch, a testament to his impatience and the shock his body endured from our recent martial arts training. He prided himself on his athleticism, but even his seasoned frame screamed in protest at muscles he hadn't known existed.

Our friends, Shen and Dao-Ming, were due back from China. Newlyweds, seeking a brief respite after escaping vampire captivity. We'd chosen Bruce's secluded cabin for our own recovery, a quiet sanctuary from the horrors we'd faced. My own body, though battered, had healed with surprising speed, a testament to my burning desire to finish what we'd started.

I guided Bruce's black SUV carefully through the muddy, rutted drive, the melting snow making the path treacherous. The sun, a rare guest, peeked through the still-bare treetops, whittling away at the brilliant white blanket. As I parked, Bruce's quizzical look turned to a scowl. His gaze swept the empty passenger seats.

"I thought you were bringing the newlyweds! What happened?" he bellowed, barely waiting for me to close the door.

I grumbled, stepping over a large puddle. "You really need to fix this drive. It's awful." Then, I met his insistent stare. "I don't know," I admitted, holding up my Blackberry, rotating it futilely. "They weren't on the plane. Airlines said they put their tickets on hold. I've had no reception all day. These mountains are cell phone nightmares."

Bruce grabbed two beers from a cooler, handing me one. "Do you think they're okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.