A Scottish Broch.
An archaeologist scorned.
A ghost disturbed.
The Detective Duo, Fergus and Flora, are spending their summer on an archaeological dig, searching for the Lost Broch.
But someone—or something—seems set on sabotaging the project. An infestation of spiders—a swarm of mice—the campsite trashed—who knew archaeology could be so dangerous?
And is the Lost Broch really under a curse?
I am very pleased to share an extract with you. Enjoy!
Fergus leapt from his bed in confusion as the sounds of screams shocked his brain into consciousness. Ripping his tent flap aside he bolted towards Flora’s tent. She might be a bit mardy at times but she was still his bestie. His first instinct was to protect her.
Thwack. He bounced off another figure and went sprawling.
“Who’s that? Stop right now.”
“Dad, it’s me.” He scrambled up.
“Stop running around like a demented banshee.”
Fergus tried to wriggle out of the hand clasping his shoulder.
“I need to find Flora. Let me go.” The squirming grew more frantic, the hand firmer.
“Use a torch, you idiot. Here.”
The male half of the Detective duo snatched the torch from the outstretched hand and raced towards the pool of light it threw in front of him. A rock, the size of Dundee, felled him and he landed on his knees. “Ow!”
The torch went flying. A few seconds later the beam turned on him.
“Fergus, what the freak are you doing? What’s that blasted racket?”
“Dunno. You okay?”
“’Course I am.”
The screams rang out through the camp again. Their level had shot up several notches.
“Somebody’s not, though.” Flora dashed off.
Fergus followed at a rapid clip. “Slow down. My inhaler’s in my tent.” His puffing emphasised his point
“Go get it, dimbo,” said Flora her voice soft. Name calling was almost a term of affection for her.
“No way”—puff puff—“I’m leaving you.”
The source of the screaming became obvious. All the adults milled around Delilah’s tent.
“Call an ambulance.” Delilah’s father’s deep voice had taken on a shriller tone. “Everyone stay back.”
Duncan turned and started running. “No signal here. I’ll do it from the big house.”
“’Sup?” asked Fergus.
“Both of you keep out of the way. I mean it.” The archaeologist’s tone remained grave.
The teens, their steps frantic, obeyed. The sharpness in his voice boded no argument; they dashed away from Delilah’s tent. Where was Barney?
They checked the meal tent. Nope. They checked his tent. Nope. Casting around they still couldn’t find him.
“What about further afield?” asked Fergus.
“Good call.” They hurried towards the edge of the camp.
He was huddled under a tree, his arms around himself.
“What are you snivelling about?”
“Flora, don’t be so mean. He’s upset.”
Flora’s face softened. She put her arm around the lad.
“What’s going on, Barney? Something happened to Delilah?”
“Barnabas. They said something about spiders. I think they’re poisonous.”
“In Scotland? Are you sure?” Flora removed her arm from Barnabas and shone the torch around. Her hand shook. Spiders were all well and good; she could cope with the odd one. This was whole new league. She huddled in closer to Barnabas and replaced her arm around his shoulder. Maybe there was safety in numbers.
“Is she going to die?” His snivelling turned into sobbing.
Fergus snorted. “Would the pair of you get a grip. No one dies from a spider bite in the UK.” After a lifetime of archaeological digs, he knew his insects.
The ambulance arrived, blue light flashing, and carted Delilah and her father away.
“What’s wrong with her, Dad?”
“Spider bites from several false black widows found in her sleeping bag.”
“OMG. We’ve got a spider infestation.” Flora’s gaze swept the area looking for a safe spot.
“It doesn’t look like the spiders came from a nest. They seem pretty localised. Go back to bed but check your sleeping bags.” Duncan waved them off.
“My thoughts on a future career as an archaeologist are rapidly changing. Insects! Marauding spiders! Not my idea of a good time.”
“Separate insects and archaeology? Nah, not possible, Flora,” said Fergus.
Saying goodnight, they trudged off to their respective tents. Flora checked her sleeping bag thoroughly. It was clear, but she kept her lantern on all night for good measure. Were Spiders scared of the light, she wondered.
Thank you, Wendy Jones and LoveBooksgroup.
About the author
Award Winning Author Wendy H. Jones lives in Scotland, and her police procedural series featuring Detective Inspector Shona McKenzie, is set in the beautiful city of Dundee, Scotland. Wendy has led a varied and adventurous life. Her love for adventure led to her joining the Royal Navy to undertake nurse training. After six years in the Navy she joined the Army where she served as an Officer for a further 17 years. This took her all over the world including Europe, the Middle East and the Far East. Much of her spare time is now spent travelling around the UK, and lands much further afield. As well as nursing Wendy also worked for many years in Academia. This led to publication in academic textbooks and journals. Killer’s Countdown is her first novel and the first book in the Shona McKenzie Mystery series. Killer’s Crew won the Books Go Social Book of the Year 2107. There are now six books in this series with Killer’s Crypt being released in August, 2017. The Dagger’s Curse is the first book in The Fergus and Flora Mysteries for Young Adults. This book is currently shortlisted for the Woman Alive Magazine Readers Choice Award Book of the Year. She is also a highly successful marketer and she shares her methods in the book, Power Packed Book Marketing.