First, an update on "The Coming Evil" front. I have the edits from my editor and we're hard at work on making this the best novel it can be. We're getting closer, folks!
In the meantime, here is an exclusive excerpt from my very first Arbigast Group short story "Flesh and Blood" to be featured in Coach's Midnight Diner Volume 3.
In "Flesh and Blood", readers are introduced to Jon Arbigast, a mercenary monster killer. Along with his partner Rashonda Spencer, Jon is called to Haiti at the request of a friend and fellow hunter to take on a difficult job. What starts out as a simple hunt goes terribly wrong, as Jon learns that, when dealing with family, things can get messy.
Read on for an excerpt, and afterwards, be sure to order your very own copy.
Zabuto rounded another alleyway and disappeared from Jon’s sight. The older hunter spat out a curse, stood with creaking bones, and moved through the brush once more, trying to keep his visual.
When Jon reached his new position, though, Zabuto was nowhere to be seen.
He tapped his mike. “Spencer, you got eyes on Z?”
“I don’t see him.”
Jon cursed again. “Well, find him! He’s not in any shape to—”
A shrill cry split the night.
Then he sprang into action.
He raced through the tall grass, clomping through mud, nearly tripping in the mire. Simultaneously, he brought out his Desert Eagle and held it aimed and ready. “I’m moving in, Spence!” he roared.
“No spook spotted,” she reported back, her breath hurried.
Another cry. A woman’s cry, wailing. The sounds of struggle.
Jon pushed his way in between the small shacks and the impoverished faces that stared back at the graying white man with the gun. They shrank in fear, retreating into their homes. Jon helped them along by waving them back with his gun. “Get inside! Get down!”
He absently realized that they had no idea what he was saying, but he hoped the urgency in his foreign-tongued command would suffice.
Emerging into the alleyway where he last spotted Zabuto, he heard a crash and a gunshot. “Spence, where is he, for God’s sake?!”
“I don’t know! I—”
The sound of another gunshot echoed in the hovel to Jon’s right. With a burst of speed, he hurled his foot into the door in a storm of splinters and leveled his pistol, prepared for anything.
Anything but what he saw.
To Be Continued in "Flesh and Blood"!
Copyright 2010 Greg Mitchell