Bad Company Update! ⭐
Hi everyone
I can't believe it's already mid-October! I don't know about you, but we've been in full Halloween decorating mode around here.
In addition to the pumpkins and witches, I've been getting Bad Company ready for publication, and, as in my story, life has thrown some obstacles in my path the past couple of weeks. Luckily none of them are monsters out to get me, but as a result I need to delay the release of the book by a week. Instead of releasing it this week, the new date I'm aiming for is October 29. This will ensure that I have a little extra time to make it as perfect as I can for all of you.
As a thank you for your understanding, here's a teaser for you! Happy reading, and I hope to have an update (and a pre-order link) for you soon!
The text message was brief, an address in nearby Green River, followed by 911.
It was all I needed.
Emergency calls were part of the job. My job, both as a doctor and a healer. I was already heading out from the family practice, so I called out a goodbye and ran for my car, mentally prepping for injuries, both physical and mystical. Given this team and the demons they fought? It would be plenty of both.
Flashes of unholy green flickered through the windows as I pulled up in front of the house, tires skidding on the rocky driveway as I hit the brakes, jumping out as the Jeep rumbled to a stop. I raced into the house, dodging broken pieces of furniture until I found the unquestionable source of the emergency call.
Koh. Tracker, friend—my best friend—sprawled on the floor. Unconscious. Blood darkened her jeans, oozing onto a very expensive rug, the coppery tang strong and familiar.
Doctor mode kicked in. I crawled toward her, the visual exam quick but thorough. The lump on her forehead was the most likely cause of her unconsciousness; I’d worry about a possible concussion later. A shard of glass protruded from her thigh, sunk deep in her muscle. Hadn’t nicked the femoral artery or she’d be dead already. Thankfully no one had tried to remove it. The impromptu bandage made from a scarf had helped staunch the bleeding.
Guess the crash course I'd given on basic first aid to her team had stuck.
Glass shattered overhead, followed by a scream icier than the Wyoming winters of my home. The chant of an exorcism spell rose above a peal of maniacal laughter, courtesy of an amorphous creature that was nothing more than furious energy filled with the desire to cause pain and destruction. Shel came into view, calmly following the poltergeist, his voice strong as he blessed each corner of the room, fighting to banish the foul creature back to Hell. The power of his words mingled with the aroma of a bay leaf and frankincense cleansing bundle, but the scent of blood was stronger, emboldening the maniacal poltergeist.
While there's no arguing that the worst quality of a poltergeist is its utter evilness, the second worst thing is the sound they make. That delighted, demented half-laugh, half-screech. It crawls into your brain. Makes you forget what you're trying to do. The timing of the poltergeist's appearance was anything but a coincidence. They thrived on chaos and fear, and there was a lot of both in here right now.
Each Latin phrase the former priest sang out assailed the poltergeist, sending it shrieking from corner to corner. It was barely visible as it careened around the room, writhing against the spell designed to cast it out, but my trained eyes followed the wavering pattern as it protested its eviction. Shel blocked it and brandished an ornate iron cross, earning a piercing shriek for his efforts.
“…omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…” Shel continued the exorcism, his Bostonian-accented voice filling the room with the boom of an oratory, giving the entity nowhere to run.
That's all you get for now! Have a great week. Time for me to get back to work...
Thanks,
Jill