Bulletproof

But the expulsion of power caused the Spirit to collapse into the snow. Its fingers splayed there. She could see how it stooped, bent-backed, weakened, and wondered just how much of a god’s power was required to drag her back through death’s gates. So, too, was the moon gone, and she knew the Spirit was always strongest when the moon rode high. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
The first shot rang from the dark. The bullet struck the Spirit’s shoulder and Aina was shocked at the solid thud. Though it didn’t appear to wound the Spirit, it loosed a beastly growl and pointed out into the desert. “Flee,” it said, in a voice like rough sandstone. Rough, yet spoken from what appeared to be a feminine jaw.


Prologue, Page 4