Dead Statues

Dead Statues
(Kiera Hudson Series Two)

BY

Tim O’Rourke

Copyright 2012 by Tim O’Rourke
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Story Editor (Hacker)
Lynda O’Rourke

Tom O’Rourke

Copyright: Tom O’Rourke 2012

Copyedited by:
Carolyn M. Pinard www.thesupernaturalbookeditor.com
This book is dedicated to the following
people:
Lindy Roberts , Kerry Greenstreet , Jennifer
Wilbourn , Olivia Finkova , Sally Cannell ,
Heather Allen Gunter , Tammy Middleton ,
Kerri Kitterman, Holly Harper , Lisa Ammari ,
Jennifer Bryson , Nichole Leonard , Arista
McKim , Allyson Esmonde , Kerri Kitterman ,
Penny McCoy , Courtney Jackson , Stacey Hoy
, Dawn Keagle , Tracie Wilson MacGregor ,
Mona Chavez-Bolanos , Kerry Anne Porter ,
Becky Lees , Gayle Morell , Toni 'bob' Francis,
Mandy Foster-Meier , Louise Chapman ,
Melissa Wright , Jemma Wood , Rosie Dargue ,
Kiera Rose Hayles , Jen Montgomery, Tara
Taggart , Stacey Crazymoo Szita , Tanya
Bobrucki , Claire White , Amber Mundwiller ,
Emma Rapley , Georgia Leigh Stewart , Maria
Vargas , Barbara Grubb , LeKeisha Kbaby
Thomas , Louise Pearson , Jennifer Martin-Green, Sandra Litz , Jane Barron , Caroline
Allison, Jane van der Merwe , Shelly Johnson,
Kay Mcguinness , Hannah Landsburgh ,
Louise Kemp, Ann Garnett , Louise McGrath ,
Sharra Courter Turner , Jemma Wood , Emma
Wilson , Kina Campbell , Amanda Porter,
Heaven-Lei Taylor, Lieann Stonebank, Nereid
Gwilliams
Thanks to:

Jennifer at readitreviewit.wordpress.com Michelle at novelsontherun.blogspot.com Shana at bookvacations.wordpress.com Darkfallen & Greta at Paranormalwastelands.blogspot.com Angie at www.bookstomorrow.blogspot.com Braine & Cimmaron @ Talkingsupe.com Tammy @ Girl(Heart)Books Who all took the time to review my books – Thank you!

More books by Tim O’Rourke
Vampire Shift (Kiera Hudson Series 1) Book 1

Vampire Wake (Kiera Hudson Series 1) Book 2

Vampire Hunt (Kiera Hudson Series 1) Book 3

Vampire Breed (Kiera Hudson Series 1) Book 4

Wolf House (Kiera Hudson Series 1) Book 4.5

Vampire Hollows (Kiera Hudson Series 1) Book 5

Dead Flesh (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 1

Dead Night (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 1.5

Dead Angels (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 2

Black Hill Farm (Book 1) Black Hill Farm: Andy’s Diary (Book 2) Doorways (Doorways Trilogy Book 1) The League of Doorways (Doorways Trilogy Book 2)

Moonlight (Moon Trilogy) Book 1

Cowgirls & Vampires (Samantha Carter Series)

You can contact Tim O’Rourke at www.Ravenwoodgreys.com Or by email at [email protected]
Author’s Note:

This is the tenth Kiera Hudson book I have written. It has been quite some journey, not only for Kiera and her friends, but I guess for you, the reader, as well. So if you’re reading this, I firstly wanted to take the time to say thank-you for coming this far on Kiera’s journey.

‘Dead Statues’
isn’t the longest book in either of the Kiera Hudson series’, but it is probably the darkest and most emotional, as our heroine heads deeper into the world that has been
pushed
.

This book is split from both Kiera’s and Potter’s points of view and this is the first time this had happened in either series. There have been two short novels concerning Potter. The first is
‘Wolf House’
, told solely from Potter’s point of view, and the second,
‘Dead Night’
told from both Potter’s and Sophie’s points of view. These two books were never intended as separate spinoff books from either Kiera Hudson series, but both of them have important characters and key plot developments which are crucial to the overall enjoyment and understanding of the book you are now holding in your hands, along with the rest of the series.

In both
‘Wolf House’
and
‘Dead Night’

Potter has kept secrets which are uncovered in
‘Dead Statues.’
If you have followed Kiera’s adventures this far but haven’t read either
‘Wolf
House’
or
‘Dead Night’
, you might want to visit those two stories first to really enjoy and understand
‘Dead Statues.’

It’s up to you – and as Jack Seth might say, “You choose.”

Whatever you decide, thank you so much for coming this far with Kiera Hudson, both of us truly appreciate it.

Take care,

Tim O’Rourke

Kiera

Push!
That one word kept racing around my head, kicking up flaky fragments of brain matter and scattering them to the furthest corners of my mind. Potter sat slouched against the side of the wagon, his chin resting against his chest as he slept. The train tilted and shook as it snaked its way through the hills and down into the valleys.

Kayla slept in the far corner of the wagon, dirty tear tracks down both of her cheeks. Sam lay beside her, half boy – half wolf. He seemed less restless than before, only stirring as the train lurched over points in the tracks.

I looked down at the picture in my hands.

My dad stared out of it at me, he was smiling and his eyes were bright. He had one arm looped about my shoulder, and my head was tilted to one side, resting against his shoulder. As I stared at the picture in the weak shaft of moonlight that cut through the gap in the carriage door, I could see that I wasn’t smiling. I looked surprised – confused, somehow. Before Potter had fallen asleep, I had told him that the photograph had yet to be taken. He hadn’t believed me. I knew I was right, like Isidor had been right about the picture of him and Melody Rose. The photo of them had yet to be taken. Where had that beautiful picture of them standing together, looking happy, been snapped? Not in this world – not in the one which had been
pushed
. Isidor was dead now. I had seen it happen with my own eyes and I knew those images of him being decapitated by those Skin-walkers would never leave me. I looked up from the picture in my hands and stared at Kayla.

How was she going to survive now without her brother by her side? How were any of us going to survive without Isidor? He was part of us – part of what I now thought of as my family. We had lost too many already. We had lost Murphy and he had left a gaping wound in Potter. I could see the pain every time I looked into his eyes – but just recently, I had seen something else there. It was like Potter knew more than he was telling me – not trusting in me. Why did I think that? I couldn’t be sure. Since returning to Hallowed Manor from visiting my flat with the picture of me and my dad, Potter had been different. He had been distant from me. Perhaps
withdrawn
was the word I was searching for. When I’d shown him the word
PUSH
scrawled on the back of the picture, just like it had been written on the back of the photo of Isidor’s, Potter had got that look in his eyes again.

I had
seen
it. At the suggestion that my father might still be alive and that I would see him again, because how else had the picture ever been taken…Potter had become dismissive again. He had skulked away, where he propped himself against the side of the carriage and finally fell asleep.

“But I’m right about the picture,” I whispered aloud, as if trying to convince myself. “I know I am.”

The train rattled at speed over the tracks, and sliding the side door of the carriage open just an inch more, I peered down at the picture. What could I
see
? There must be something which would prove to me – to Potter – that the picture had yet to be taken, and had been put within my reach to lead me to my father. I held it up towards the gap in the door where the moonlight and chill night breeze rushed in. With my eyes screwed almost shut, I peered at the picture, trying to see anything – any clue as to where the picture might have been taken. The problem was, my father and I took up most of the picture, and what little I could see behind us was cast in gloomy shadow. It was impossible; I couldn’t see where the picture had been taken.

Then, as a gust of freezing cold air tried to snatch the picture from my hand, I whispered, “Kiera, how can you be so dumb?” With my free hand, I raked away my long, black hair which blew about my face, and looked at the picture again. “It’s not important where the picture was taken, but who took the photo – that’s what matters!”

Realising I had been talking out loud, I glanced quickly about the carriage at the others.

They were still asleep, so I looked once again back at the photograph. Someone must have taken the picture, right? Someone must have been there when I met up with my father again. Perhaps it might be this someone who would lead me to him?

Then with my skin breaking out in gooseflesh, I lowered the picture and stared out through the gap in the door.

“Perhaps my mother took the picture?” I gasped.

If my dad was still alive in this
pushed
world, maybe my mother was too. But she was a Vampyrus, right? The Vampyrus had all been taken back below into The Hollows, and the tunnels had been sealed. There were no Vampyrus in this new world. Then slowly, I turned my head and looked at Potter as he sat hunched asleep against the side of the wagon. I knew that there was at least one.

Potter

“Just keep away from me,” I told her
again, shifting my position against the tree so I
didn’t have to look at her. I didn’t want to be
close to her. Something deep inside of me was
telling me it was wrong to be near her. Not
because she was a threat to me, but because it
wasn’t Kiera.

Then I felt her hand gently squeeze my
shoulder as she turned me around to face her.

She looked into my eyes and said, “What’s
wrong?”

“I just want to be left alone,” I
whispered.

“That’s no fun,” she smiled.

“I haven’t come here to have fun,” I
told her. “I’ve come to catch a killer.” I looked
over her shoulder and I could see I was back
at the wolf house. Even now I felt the dread
and the pain seeping from its ramshackled
frame. In the distance, I could hear the faint
sound of children sobbing for their mothers.

Leaning in close to me, she whispered,
“Something is happening here –”

“I know, children are being
murdered…” I started.

“No, I didn’t mean that,” she
whispered, brushing herself close against me.

“Something is happening between you and me
– you feel it too, I know you do.”