Spoiled Milk (The Seattle Coven Tales Book 4)

A father's worst nightmare reborn—this time with blood and ritual

Steven Metcalf thought he’d closed the door on the supernatural. But when he discovers his son has been secretly cloned, and that a coven of witches plans to use the copies in dark rituals, he's pulled into a race against time and terror. As the stolen embryos vanish into the shadows of Seattle, Steven and his allies fight to stop a powerful witch intent on unlocking unspeakable power through innocent blood.

SPOILED MILK blends modern science with ancient evil in a tense, supernatural thriller that pushes the limits of horror. With every step closer to the truth, Steven faces not only the occult, but a personal reckoning with what it means to protect life—no matter how it came to be.

Winner of the 2024 Best Horror Book from N.N. Light’s Book Heaven, this fourth installment in the Seattle Coven Tales series continues the saga hailed as “the must-read paranormal series of the year.”

Grab your copy of Spoiled Milk now and dive into a horror tale where science meets sorcery—and no one is safe.

Excerpt from the book

Tuesday, November 24th, 2015

According to the dashboard clock, it was three forty-six a.m. as Father Davidson drove us around the University of Washington’s Medical Building and parked in the lower lot near Portage Bay, near Lake Union—the setting for the nineteen-nineties film Sleepless in Seattle. We were sleepless at the moment, meeting Stan Wentworth, a grad student friend of mine who I’d bribed to sneak us into the Department of Biomedicine. We aimed to rescue my son’s clones.

My infant son, Lazarus, was in foster care, arranged in secret by the Church after Seattle witches tried to kill him. Our bloodline contained something that could be utilized by witches. Because of this, my son and I, and now my son’s clones, were at great risk. I learned the embryonic clones were being kept on ice by a witch who had also been a University of Washington professor of biomedicine. The professor was now dead, along with the other Seattle witches, but that didn’t stop the threat. Witches were everywhere.

Hu, Mike, Father Davidson, and I exited the car and entered the cold, damp, and poorly lit parking lot. We put on special utility belts we adapted for carrying holy water containers. As we clipped our belts, a police vehicle raced into the lot with red and blue lights flashing.

Hu looked up. “Oh, shit.”

Many of Seattle’s police were allies of witches. Plus, we assumed they were searching for us after we killed all of Seattle’s witches in one fell swoop last week. It wasn’t mass murder; it was self-defense, but who would believe us?

The vehicle came to a screeching stop, nearly blinding us with its high-beam headlights and the flashing lights on the roof. A guy spoke from the squad car through a megaphone. “Campus security. State your business.”

“Campus security?” I repeated, breathing a sigh of relief. “They don’t carry guns,” I told the others.

He heard me. “That’s right,” agreed the officer, “but I’m in touch with the police. What’s your business at this hour?”

The main door to this side of the biomedical building burst open, and Stan came running out, his unbuttoned white lab coat flapping in his tailwind. Stan’s long curly hair and beard were also being swept back as he ran. He held up the identity badge that hung around his neck. “It’s okay, officer! They’re with me.”

The driver’s door to the security vehicle opened, and a tall, skinny, pimple-faced kid emerged. He removed a radio receiver from where it hung on his shoulder and spoke into it. “Getting out now to investigate. Looks like a grad student is vouching for them.”

There was a squawk of static, and then a voice on the other end said, “Roger. Standing by.”

Stan approached the young officer, still holding out his ID badge. “They’re with me,” he repeated.

“At this hour?”

“I need a hand with some work I’m doing for Doctor Warnock. It has to be done now.”

“Hold on.” The officer removed a tablet from his car and took a photo of Stan’s ID and a picture of Stan.