Dark God Descending PDF

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By Tony-Paul de Vissage

All grad student James Tucker Upchurch wanted was to earn summer credit on an archaeological dig to Central America…and to marry his fiancée, Shannon. All Semris wanted was to escape the monotony of a millennia-old life, and the burdens being a demon king, and the son of the Mayan God of Death, have placed upon him.

For five thousand years, the misplaced Dark Lords of Hell have been trapped in this world, ruling the Mayan city of Nikte-Uaxac. While elsewhere civilizations rise and fall, they and their subjects remain unchanged, until Twenty-first Century intruders appear, stealing from them their most precious possession, the Emperor himself…

Fantasy Horror

Sensuality rating: 2

Cover Art by Blaise Kilgallen

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Chapter 1

Dr. Sarah Westcott was bargain-hunting. One would’ve thought that, as a person who made a career digging among the throwaways and trash bins of ancient peoples’ lives, she’d choose to spend her free time in other, more enlightened pursuits, but Sarah loved to shop, and going to flea markets and garage sales was her passion and delight. She’d been driving down one of Paradise’s little side streets when she noticed the group of people in the yard and the hand-written sign tacked to the tree near the curb. Garage Sale.

That was all she needed to see. Quickly, she found a parking spot, slid the car into it, got out, and walked over to join the other browsers. There was some furniture on display but it was nothing of value or interest, so she turned her attention to the rows of collapsible tables lining the front yard of the little cottage, glancing quickly at the objects haphazardly stacked on them. Paperback booksassorted demitasse-size spoons bearing the seals of various states…odd pieces of crockery…nothing of any interest. Nothing in which a trained eye would recognize hidden value. A disappointment.

And then she saw it. Lying on top of a pile of costume jewelry. A small golden square suspended in the center of a collar made of the same material, its clasp broken. Sarah picked it up, brushing her thumb across the soft metal, noting the fine scratches incised into the shining skin. Yes, it was electrum, all right, an ancient alloy of silver and gold. And very old. Or my name isn’t Sarah Westcott! Well, she was Sarah Westcott, and she just stood there, holding the necklace, feeling that familiar excitement. The sensation she always got when a piece of pottery turned out to be a rare type crafted by some long-lost tribe thought to never have existed until she proved otherwise. Trying not to look too interested, she turned the little square over, staring at the image carved into the other side. A bat. That was the only thing the jagged-winged creature could be. Wielding a war club, its mouth open in a silent scream, fangs jutting outward. Below the bat cowered a man, arms raised in supplication, the war club resting against his skull. At the bottom center of the square was a tiny ring as if something had been attached. A gem, perhaps? A figurine of some kind?

“Pretty gruesome little piece, isn’t it?” The question came from behind her and Sarah turned to smile at the jean clad young woman standing there.

“Gruesome,” she agreed. “But interesting. It is for sale, isn’t it?”

“Everything here is for sale,” the young woman informed her with a sweep of one arm to include all the tables in the yard. “This little house has been in our family for five generations and I felt it’s about time we cleaned out the attic.” 

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