Bad Moon Rising Book Cover



Bad Moon Rising


An unpleasant tingling sensation traveled up Murry’s arm as he looked into the eyes of the woman in the portrait—the voodoo priestess, Marie Laveau. He was sure no one stiffed her and got away with it.

For a moment the coffee shop lights dimmed. The room grew dark and smoky though it didn’t smell of smoke. From where Murry sat, Jean Gallan’s face disappeared in the darkness and a sense of unhurried, unpanicked timelessness settled over him. Laveau’s face suddenly shimmered above the vague outline of her body. She glided toward him. “A favor for a favor,” she whispered.

Behind her, as though seeing through a doorway into another room, he saw Mary Éclair, curled on a bed, eyes open and listless, felt her despair and loss. It was like a crushing tide, burying her so deep she’d never make it to the light again.

Murry knew Laveau was offering to heal Éclair. But was it a price he could afford?

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