Sundancer #1
Brian Freyermuth
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Coming soon to: Kobo
You can run all you want, but the game's in your blood. And blood never forgets…
Nick St. James was born different. His extraordinary gifts have saved him time and time again, but they couldn't save the one thing he loved most: his wife.
Now he just wants to forget his old life, but more importantly, he wants to forget the magical underworld that lives beneath the "real" world. A place where a man's faith can determine the very fabric of reality. Where ancient forgotten gods walk hidden among us, and angels and demons fight for our very souls.
But nothing stays hidden forever. Nick's peaceful world is ripped apart when a demon slaughters his ex-partner and marks him for death. Now he must use all his gifts to find the one who summoned the nightmarish creature, but more importantly, he needs to find the one thing he lost long ago.
Himself.
So from following along my little blog, you must know by now that I am a total and complete urban fantasy / paranormal fantasy junkie right? So you won't be shocked the fact that I absolutely jumped at the chance to read this book and subsequently fell for it? *nods* Yeah, I knew you were smart. :)So, another thing that suckers me in? The protagonist who is in emotional pain and yet still kind, vulnerable yet tough. The one who makes you sympathize as well as cheer when he/she turns into Supreme Bad-Ass. Nick St James is totally one of those characters. Before you even get a chance to delve into what made him so, he was already appealing in his approach to his day, to what he encounters, etc.
I have to admit to being a little surprised. I wasn't expecting such a mix of characters that work seamlessly together: the trickster coyote, angels, demons, trolls, vampires, old gods...it was intense and yet so wonderfully woven that I couldn't stop reading. I am hoping that the next book has more history or that Mr Freyermuth writes a prequel of sorts and really...that's only to satisfy my morbid curiosity.
Well-written, well-paced, great action scenes, and, at times, gory, I couldn't turn away, I wanted it to continue, and I enjoyed my time watching Nick come out of his shell, master his Pain, and BE. I'm happy there's a #1 after this as I'd happily read some more!
Brian now has added novelist to his bestselling career. In April 2013 he released a hot new urban fantasy, Demon Dance, on Kindle. After only a couple of weeks it reached number 13 on Amazon’s Bestseller Rank for Kindle Urban Fantasy eBooks.
Since the days of the Commodore 64, Brian spent his youth writing novels or playing games. Writing has always been a passion for him, whether it was entertaining his teachers with his short stories, creating elaborate characters for the role playing games he played with his friends, or creating screenplays for the home movies he made for his class projects. He earned a B.A. from the University of California Irvine in Comparative Literature which he uses in both writing for games as well as crafting his novels.
Today, Brian leads a content team at Xaviant as they create an exciting new game, Lichdom: Redeemer, scheduled for release in the summer of 2014. When he’s not at his computer working on the sequel to Demon Dance, you can find him exploring the wilderness of Georgia with his wife, Juliet, and their son.
For more information about the projects Brian has worked on and new projects, visit http://www.middark.com.
Email: brian@middark.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bfreyermuthofficial
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BrianFreyermuth
Website: http://www.middark.com/
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7066403.Brian_Freyermuth/blog
Interviews and Articles: http://www.middark.com/middark_links.html
“I came here,” I told the cat, “to get away from my life. Why did it have to find me?”
The cat’s emerald eyes sparkled with silent laughter. He seemed to know how stupid that sounded, and a thin, brittle smile came to my lips.
“You think I’m an idiot, huh?” I asked. The cat responded with a sharp meow. “Well, so do I.”
I sat up and stretched my neck. “I’m an idiot for throwing the glass,” I told him. “That was some premium Tennessee whiskey.”
The cat meowed again. “As for you,” I said, “you need a name.” The animal wore a dark blue collar I had missed when he came in. There wasn’t an ID, but the strip of cloth had a word printed on the front: Walker.
“OK,” I said, “Walker it is.” I scratched the cat behind his ears, and a rumbling purr vibrated my fingers.
Suddenly Walker’s ears perked up and he sprang from the bed. The hairs on my arms stood to attention, and I swung my legs over the side. My eyes searched the room, seeking a sign in the afternoon gloom of what was crawling across my senses.
That’s when the phone rang. “The Hall of the Mountain King,” made up of singular electronic notes, echoed through the apartment. I leaped out of bed and stood at the edge of the protective circle. The melody repeated itself three times and went silent.
I stood there at the edge of the circle, my heart racing. I strained to hear any movement, and my nose searched for a hint of sulfur. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.
The song blasted the silence again, the tones as simple as a child’s keyboard. With a deep breath, I stepped out of the circle and crept toward the bedroom door. Sensing nothing, I walked into the living room.
The cell phone became silent again, but only for a moment. I managed to snag it on the last ring with an annoyed, “Hello?” Away from the circle I was vulnerable, and I turned to go back to the bed, but the fearful breathing on the other end of the line stopped me.
“Nick?” Caitlin called, as if from a long tunnel. Static overpowered her voice, like energy on a high-voltage wire.
“Cate? I can barely hear you.”
“Nick! Thank God. I need your help!”
I sighed. I came away from my protection for this? “Look, Cate,” I said as I walked back into the bedroom and toward the circle, “we talked about this. You know my—”
“Just shut up and listen!” she yelled. I stopped again as a roaring filled the phone. Screams pierced the background. “I’m in a penthouse at One-Fifty-Five Second Street. Downtown. Get your ass down here!”
“Cate, I—”
“Please, Nick!” Gunshots cracked the phone. “Jesus, the thing has no eyes, how can it see—”
The line went dead.
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