When the Vatican’s top assassin, a Rhodesian merc, a pair of serial killer lovers, a dirty cop, and a professional sadist compete in a mad race for a pair of priceless magical artifacts, betrayal, theft, and murder are just the opening moves in a game of death.
Genre: FICTION / ThrillersBook sales from 6/11/16- present
Ebooks: 80
Free ebooks:243
KENP (kindle unlimited pages read): 1895
Paperbacks: 95
Audiobook sales from 1/10/2017 - present: 20
Amazon rankings as of 2/4/2017:
#535 in Books > Literature & Fiction > Humor & Satire > Dark Humor
#2389 in Books > Mystery, Thriller & Suspense > Thrillers & Suspense > Crime > Serial Killers
#2690 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Mystery, Thriller & Suspense > Suspense > Paranormal
Highest Amazon ranking:
#18 in Books > Literature & Fiction > Humor & Satire > Dark Humor
A midnight blue haze blotted out the moon and stars. Storm clouds and falling snow darkened the world. The ruins of the church were barely visible save as a phantom against flashes of lightning. Ice encrusted the burned-out house of God, like so much frosting on the gingerbread house of an overzealous child. Foot-long icicles hung down from the open doorway, the overbite of some menacing frost giant.
"Well this is certainly dramatic," Jack said aloud.
The vampire blade was secured to his belt. He didn't feel comfortable carrying it after he'd lost control at Burger King, but it was too valuable to leave in the car. The nun was in his mind on some level, and she might know if he left it unguarded. The best option was to fight down whatever influence it had on him, and hope that the holy assassin would let that same rage make her reckless.
In his mind he could feel the nun's excitement. She knew he was here. At least subtlety could be dispensed with.
The Rhodesian put a fresh clip in his Uzi and approached the threshold of the ruined church.
What's black and white and red all over?" The Rhodesian called into the darkness. He was met with silence.
Jack took a step inside. The nun's laughter filled the charred church, echoing against the ice and wood, but also in his mind. Looking up, he saw Sister Michelle - somehow he knew her name now - crouched on a rafter over the blackened and blistered effigy of the dying Christ.
| Language | Status |
|---|---|
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Portuguese
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Belisa Caramori
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Spanish
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Fernanda Sánchez
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