David L. Felts
A Wilder God
language
(SFReader Press July 9, 2015)
San Francisco Detective Andrew Murray doesn't believe in the supernatural, but young gang members are showing up dead, horribly mutilated by some sort of animal. Strange howling sounds are being heard at night.
Then a modern day Druid named Chulainn shows up with a crazy story about the legend of the Wild Hunt and how the Huntsman and his hounds are stalking the streets of San Francisco.
And Andrew, an ex-alcoholic still haunted by a traumatic event in his past, is the only one who can stop it.
Excerpt
Andy stood frozen with shock and surprise as a tall figure melted from the night, wearing an antlered silver helm. The tall figure stared, the green glow of its eyes paralyzing. The dogs finished with the boy and returned to sit, one to each side of the tall figure, licking blood from their lips.
"Who are you?" Andy asked, the question coming unbidden.
The answer was felt more than heard, a throbbing in the center of his brain: images of blood and death, the energy of fear and pain, the sweet taste of souls devoured. A craving for the power it received from followers who didn't even know what god they worshiped. The visions faded, leaving Andy with the taste of blood and death clogging his throat.
The Huntsman bent to stroke the head of one of the hounds. Straightening, dark cape swirling, he turned and began to walk away.
Then a modern day Druid named Chulainn shows up with a crazy story about the legend of the Wild Hunt and how the Huntsman and his hounds are stalking the streets of San Francisco.
And Andrew, an ex-alcoholic still haunted by a traumatic event in his past, is the only one who can stop it.
Excerpt
Andy stood frozen with shock and surprise as a tall figure melted from the night, wearing an antlered silver helm. The tall figure stared, the green glow of its eyes paralyzing. The dogs finished with the boy and returned to sit, one to each side of the tall figure, licking blood from their lips.
"Who are you?" Andy asked, the question coming unbidden.
The answer was felt more than heard, a throbbing in the center of his brain: images of blood and death, the energy of fear and pain, the sweet taste of souls devoured. A craving for the power it received from followers who didn't even know what god they worshiped. The visions faded, leaving Andy with the taste of blood and death clogging his throat.
The Huntsman bent to stroke the head of one of the hounds. Straightening, dark cape swirling, he turned and began to walk away.
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