He’s lost his memory. He’s hunting demons. He’s in New York. But the worse thing of all? He’s afraid an archangel is after him.   When Hunter suddenly appears in downtown Manhattan chasing a demon and missing his memory, all he knows is that he’s not from this world and this probably isn’t his body. But even if he doesn’t know his own name, he knows demons and angels are the Enemy. And scored into his soul is the knowledge that what They want, he cannot let Them have.   Read Chapter One

Young Adult urban fantasy   Secrets have jagged edges. When you open them, they tear the heart. And the secrets of families have the sharpest edge of all.   A story of intense friendship and self-discovery The secrets are out. Surely now Dave and the Jaeger family can move on with their lives. But secrets aren’t so easily told or accepted. Coming to terms with their pasts will require all their courage, and it will tear their hearts. And all the secrets are not yet told. This book continues the story told in Secrets have jagged edges (previously published as Secrets). This is Dave’s story. It follows on immediately from…

Young Adult urban fantasy Originally published by Medallion Press as Secrets   Secrets have jagged edges. When you open them, they tear the heart. And the secrets of families have the sharpest edge of all.   Son He meant us to die. Was that true? With strange voices in his head and dark visions in the shadows, Mike doesn’t know whether his conviction that his father’s deep silence hides terrible truths is anything more than a sign of the madness he fears. Father Paul’s run from the past all his life, and silence binds his tongue with the weight of more than one lifetime. Can he break the silence, now…

Sons of the Wolf                 Finding God

Mike Jaeger, private investigator, knows all about killers. Like the killer he’s hunting, it’s in his blood.   Two dead bodies. A powerful enemy. A killing lust. A predator turned prey. When Mike agrees to do a favor for an old woman’s lawyer grandson, he has no idea it will lead to danger for his brothers and himself. But when a young girl is found dead and his brother says, “Her death matters. Make it matter. At any cost.”, what else can he do but follow the trail? Wherever it leads.   Read Chapter One  

The place was like a hundred others I had tossed. Stale odors of an adult male, of sex, of Asian takeouts and pizza and cheap wine and beer, of socks and shirts and underpants left to molder. And traces of cocaine. I found the cocaine taped to the back of a drawer in his nightstand. There wasn’t much. The fact that there was any argued against a planned disappearance. Other things argued against it too. I found a soft-covered notebook stuck to the underside of a low table. The table was some sort of modern monstrosity made out of recycled whiteware. The notebook had a magnetic strip stuck to its…

The night wraps itself around them, warm as a brother’s skin, liquid as a woman’s womb. The scent of her layers itself on the humid air: the musk of her sex, the salty tang of her sweat, the sweet metal of her blood. The dizzying, erotic flavor of her fear. He runs. Smiling. It was the doldrums of the night, the time when human energies are lowest, when the sick and frail die, when depression turns to suicide. It was a good time for hunting. I walked along the darkened streets, bouncing on my toes, feeling a rush building in my veins. Forget the painstaking, boring searching that is the…

“You don’t know.” She said it flatly, disbelievingly. “What do you know?” He shrugged helplessly. Looking down into the amber depths of his glass, he lifted it and drained it in one fast, fierce torrent. The rawness of it didn’t affect his voice, although it felt like it should. “I know I was chasing a slitherer.” “A slitherer?” Incredulity open in her voice now, and impatience too. As if she’d decided he was playing some kind of a game and she’d had enough. “I’m not scamming you.” The word sat oddly on his tongue, yet the sense of it held a familiar resonance. He wondered how he knew all this,…

I have to catch it. He knew that even before he knew he was running, even before he knew where he was, when the world was just a rainbow of colors, blinding, disorienting, and him staggering like a three-footed drunk, his eyes blinking furiously as they tried to sort it all out. And then the colors sharpened and separated and he found his footing, the world coming steadier. And there were shapes. Too many shapes, too different. He kept moving through the storm. He had to catch it. Then the noise hit him. He stalled. He was drowning. He was being crushed. By the colors, by the shapes. By the…

Closeted in a toilet cubicle, willing myself not to puke, I remembered what I’d done that morning. I saw myself open the cages, saw the wild cat jump out gracefully, pausing to rub itself against my leg before stalking into the undergrowth. I saw the baby possum look up at me with huge round eyes, then run up my leg. Reaching down, I had plucked it from its clinging hold on my pants, and carried it in cupped hands across to a tree. Placing it on a branch just above my head, I’d muttered, “Sometimes people have to be kicked out of home for their own good.” I felt embarrassed…