It Happened One Doomsday
Read It Happened One Doomsday Online
Authors: Laurence MacNaughton
M
ORE
P
RAISE FOR
I
T
H
APPENED
O
NE
D
OOMSDAY
“If the apocalypse is going to be this much fun, sign me up!”
âM. C. Planck, author of
the World of Prime series
“Dru's apocalyptic adventures with demons, magical crystals, and crazy-making chaos are hellishly original and lots of fun.”
âHelen Harper, author of
the Highland Magic series
“Add Laurence MacNaughton's Dru Jasper to the pantheon of Ree Reyes, Atticus O'Sullivan, and Harry Dresden. MacNaughton shatters his way through an apocalyptic good time, leaving a trail of broken crystals in his wake.”
âMichael Haspil, author of
Graveyard Shift
“Laurence MacNaughton sends readers on a fast-paced adventure into a fascinating world of sorcerers literally dealing with problems of apocalyptic proportions!
It Happened One Doomsday
will keep you turning page after page up until the end of the world!”
âRichard A. Knaak, author of
Black City Saint
“From zero to apocalypse in sixty seconds! A fast-paced, action-packed supernatural road rally that had me on the edge of my seat . . . when I wasn't laughing out loud. Think Harry Dresden meets Stephen King's
Christine
.”
âMari Mancusi, award-winning author
of the Scorched series
“
It Happened One Doomsday
is an epic blend of magic, action, humor, and romance, delivered at breakneck speed on the road to Armageddon. ÂLaurence MacNaughton knows how to unleash an apocalypse in style!”
âAngela Roquet, author of the Lana Harvey,
Reapers Inc. series
Published 2016 by Pyr®, an imprint of Prometheus Books
It Happened One Doomsday
. Copyright © 2016 by Laurence MacNaughton. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or conveyed via the Internet or a website without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Cover illustration and design by Nicole Sommer-Lecht
Cover design © Prometheus Books
This is a work of fiction. Characters, organizations, products, locales, and events portrayed in this novel either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Inquiries should be addressed to
Pyr
59 John Glenn Drive
Amherst, New York 14228
VOICE: 716-691-0133
FAX: 716-691-0137
20 19 18 17 16 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: MacNaughton, Laurence, 1975- author.
Title: It happened one doomsday / by Laurence MacNaughton.
Description: Amherst, N.Y. : Pyr, an imprint of Prometheus Books, 2016.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016007393 (print) | LCCN 2016020398 (ebook) |
ISBN 9781633881877 (paperback) | ISBN 9781633881884 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: MagicâFiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Fantasy / Urban Life. |
GSAFD: Fantasy fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3613.A276 I84 2016 (print) | LCC PS3613.A276 (ebook) |
DDC 813/.6âdc23
LC record available at
https://lccn.loc.gov/2016007393
Printed in the United States of America
For Cyndi.
CONTENTS
 Â
4: Ninety-Five Percent Right
 Â
5: Rat Signs
 Â
6: Strange Brew
15: Some Girls Wander by Mistake
18: Lot Six Hundred and Sixty-Six
24: Cardio for the Casual Sorceress
27: Under the Milky Way Tonight
29: The Only Evil You Can Trust
44: The Silence When You're Gone
45: The End of the World, As We Know It
1
THE PERFECT RING
Dru Jasper had no idea that the world was prophesied to come to a fiery end in six days. All she knew was that she had to ring up enough sales to pay the rent, or her shop, The Crystal Connection, would get evicted from its cramped storefront between the pawnshop and the 24-hour liquor store.
Worn out from a long day of cataloging rocks and hoping that one of her scarce customers would actually buy something, Dru pulled her brown hair back into a ponytail and carefully cleaned her thick-framed glasses.
The crystals, ancient artifacts, and leather-bound books lining the shelves of her shop all seemed to accumulate dust that had an obnoxious way of clinging to everything. Especially her glasses.
As she misted her lenses, a rumble of thunder rolled down the street. Which was odd because although the sunny Denver afternoon seemed unusually bleak, there was no sign of rain. A moment later, looking out her front windows, she realized it wasn't thunder at all.
With a snarl of exhaust, an old muscle car pulled up to the curb. Every inch of it glistened black and smooth as volcanic glass, from the sinister point of its long nose to the spoiler wing that rose up in back. The car rolled to a stop behind the old purple Lincoln Town Car belonging to Dru's sole employee, Opal.
At that moment, Opal got out of her car, a heavyset black woman in an orange-crush-colored knit top and a necklace of polished crystal tiger's-eye beads big enough to be actual tigers' eyes. When she stepped up onto the sidewalk in gumdrop-red platform sandals, one of them wobbled, and she accidentally dropped her paper cup of coffee, spilling it everywhere.
Opal paused in the process of picking up her now-empty cup to stare at her car's back tire. Which was slowly going flat, a nail sticking out of its sidewall.
Inside the shop, Dru winced in sympathy. She came out from behind the counter to help, quickening her pace when she saw the guy get out of his black car and approach Opal. With his thick dark hair, sunglasses, stubble, and black motorcycle jacket, he looked like nothing but trouble.
But much to her surprise, Mr. Motorcycle Jacket actually made Opal smile brightly. He walked back along the length of his long black car, opened up the trunk beneath the tall wing, and brought back a lug wrench and a jack. Without preamble, he got down and proceeded to change Opal's flat tire.
Through the shop's scratched front windows, Opal made eye contact with Dru. Her lifted eyebrows and pursed lips clearly expressed that she thought this guy was fabulous.
Then something around the corner, outside of Dru's line of sight, spooked Opal enough to make her hustle in through the front door of the shop. The bell jingled.
“Is that guy fixing your tire?” Dru asked in disbelief. She hurried to follow Opal toward the back room.
“Yeah, if I was single right now, we'd already be making plans, him and me. But whatever. You can be jealous later. You've got bigger problems.” Opal turned and pointed outside. “Here comes your friend.”
Dru's customers were mostly furtive sorcerers who shunned attention. But Rane was impossible to miss in a crowd. Six feet tall, built like a professional athlete, with a high blonde ponytail that bobbed with every stomp of her feet. Even when Rane was in a
good
mood she looked ready to smash something.
Rane marched straight toward the front door of the shop. And she was obviously not in a good mood.
“Oh, fudge buckets,” Dru whispered. “Quick, hide anything fragile.”
Opal rolled her eyes. “Everything in here is fragile. Including me.”
In fact, nothing about Opal was fragile. Loud, sarcastic, and voluptuous, maybe. At least
voluptuous
was the current word she used to describe herself, formerly
full-figured, fluffy
, and (briefly)
goddess
. But certainly not fragile.
“She breaks anything?” Opal said. “I'm not the one cleaning it up this time. Thought you should know that.”
Outside, Rane marched past Mr. Motorcycle Jacket, close enough that she nearly made him drop Opal's newly removed tire. She banged through the door the way she always did, the force threatening to tear off the bell that hung from the wall. It jangled in protest.
“Girl's got issues. Good luck with all that,” Opal whispered. “And let me know when Mr. Hunky is done with my tire. I want to thank him properly.” She ducked into the back.
Dru took a deep breath and slipped behind the counter again. “Hi, Rane,” she sang out, trying to sound cheerful. And failing.
“Dude. You should totally tighten up that bell before it falls off. You don't want it beaning some jackwad on the head and getting you a lawsuit.” Rane marched up to the counter and planted both palms on it. “Listen. I'm in big trouble.”
Dru's smile froze. Rane had the singular ability to stir up trouble anywhere, even where there wasn't any. And she had a tendency to bring it into the shop with her. “What kind of trouble, exactly?”
“I need a new ring.”
“Come on, Rane, give me a breakâ”
“Don't give me any crap, D. I had to try like fifty different rings last time before I found this granite one.”
“It's flint, actually.”
Rane propped one fist on her hip and shot Dru a dark look. “Seriously? This is
flint
? Like the sparky rock?”
“Well, yes. Although we, um, we don't usually call it that.” Dru pointed to the mottled brown-and-gray stone ring. “Flint enhances strength and healing. And it's been used since prehistoric times to make tools and weapons. Considering how you spend your days, you know, hunting monsters and all, I figured it was apropos.”
“Ugh.” Rane rolled her eyes. “Well, that explains it.”
“âIt' what?”
Rane planted both palms on the counter again and leaned across it. Dru pulled back in wide-eyed wariness.
“Dude,” Rane said somberly. “I've been fighting this infestation of little stinky gremlin types down by the river.”
“Stinky?”
