Tavern of Terror Vol. 7: Short Horror Stories Anthology

Welcome to Hannigan’s. We hope you enjoy the fright… A mysterious package reveals a deadly secret lurking in a couple’s new home. Feline fury is unleashed with deadly consequences when a burglary goes wrong. And detectives come face to face with the supernatural, when their suspect reveals his power to summon a demon… It’s last call at Hannigan’s, a cozy little tavern with a sinister past. Locals whisper tales of ghosts and ghouls around a roaring fire. And you never know just who—or what—will stop by for a drink. A skeletal hand reaches across the bar to pour another pint. A drunken patron flashes you a toothy grin from the shadows. Rotting bandages dangle from the chair next to you, as the fetid stench of death fills the air. Prepare to have your senses tested and your sanity questioned as you immerse yourself in the twisted tales that haunt the patrons of Hannigan's. Enter if you dare, for the night is long. And the terror, everlasting. PRINT LENGTH 195 pages AUDIO LENGTH 7 hours and 23 minutes NARRATED BY Thom Bowers PRODUCT DIMENSION 6 x 0.5 x 9 inches ISBN LANGUAGE English PUBLICATION DATE July 31, 2023 Read a Sample THE RAT KING Carlo sighed as he got out of his van, looking at the old brownstone building before him. The building dated back to the 1930s and was held together with hopes and prayers as much as mortar these days. It looked decayed, which made it fit in with everything else in the neighborhood known as Scarsdale. Most people just called it Scars now. Old wounds that never quite faded. Ugly stuff from the past.   He opened the sliding side door of the van and shouldered his large canvas bag. This was the third time he’d been to the decrepit old brownstone in a month. The place was infested with rats. It was well beyond a problem by now. This was not a building full of tenants who had discovered they lived with rats. It was a building full of rats who had discovered they lived with humans.   Carlo had been working as an exterminator for nearly twenty years. He learned the trade from his father’s best friend, Ray Santini. Ray had been a decent guy, if not altogether on the straight and narrow in life. He was willing to cut any corner he could cut and bend any rule he could bend to get ahead in life. He and Carlo’s dad had been on one or two misadventures in the past. And Carlo had heard a lot of the stories and had been told he could explicitly not hear a few as well.   So his apprenticeship into the world of pest control was maybe not traditional. Ray showed him shortcuts as often as he showed him the right way to get the job done. He was a fan of the “enough but not everything” approach to pest control. In Ray’s world, if a house had ten rats, you killed nine of them. Then let that tenth one roll the dice and see what happens. Maybe a new infestation rises out of it, and in a few months, you get another paying gig.   You could never do too little, though. That was another rule Ray had. If the house had ten rats, never leave five. Five was a sloppy job. Five meant the homeowner thought you were a failure and wouldn’t be calling you back. Five ruined your future gig and maybe gave you a bad word-of-mouth reputation. So no, never do that. Enough, but not everything. And never not enough.   Carlo generally tried to do a job right the first time. It made sense. It created more loyal customers, he thought. Not that he wasn’t above trimming the odd corner to get a job done. If a customer wanted the organic, holistic, pet and family-friendly poison, he might use a bit of the cheaper, more dangerous stuff in cracks and crevices. It wasn’t like anyone’s dog was going to be in the ceiling or between the walls. What a customer didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, right?   The brownstone building was home to a number of families, singles, elders, and pets. There were thirty-six apartments in total, and every single one was dealing with rats. So Carlo kept coming back.   Unfortunately, the owner of the building was not willing to commit to serious measures to eliminate the problem. Carlo had instead been spreading snap traps, glue traps, and a non-toxic repellent formula he made himself out of garlic, black pepper, and Tabasco. All of it was effective at temporarily controlling rats. Temporarily being the key word.   “Carlo, my God, where have you been?” a voice called from the first-story window. He turned to face the building as he finished packing up his gear and smiled, waving at Mrs. Pelfrey, a lady in her 60s who was one of the chattiest people he had ever met.   “Hey, Mrs. Pelfrey. It’s bad again, huh?”   “Bad? I found a rat in my toilet this morning. They’re in my cupboards. They’re in my drawers. This is not legal!”   “I’m doing what I can,” he told her. “Until Monty is willing to top to bottom this building, though, I think we’re fighting an uphill battle.”   Mrs. Pelfrey grumbled and scowled. She knew as well as Carlo that the landlord, Monty Jellico, was not going to evacuate the building to clear it of rats. There were a handful of residents with health issues that had complained of being unable to leave the building for the time it would take to fully clear it of the infestation, and others were wary of any poisons that might hurt their children or pets.