Danny Raye's Blog, page 6

Defeating the Enemy by: Phil Hopper

Synopsis

Everything God wants to give you, Satan seeks to steal. Why live in captivity when Jesus came to give you an abundant life?

As a former SWAT cop, Pastor Phil Hopper offers a unique perspective on how to overcome the enemy of your soul. By knowing your enemy’s strategy, you will be equipped to live victoriously and not fall into Satan’s captivity.

This book provides a fresh, unique and highly relatable look at the adversary’s tactics so you can always be one step ahead of the devil.

You’ll find answers to questions such as:

• How can I break the bondage and leave behind the baggage?• Why do I keep doing the same stupid things that I do?• How can I never again take Satan’s bait?• How can I be forgiven of my sin, but not healed from its effects?

Learn how to live a life of freedom as we uncover the tactics, deceptions and strategies of the enemy

Evaluation

Phil Hopper is my personal pastor at Abundant Life Church here in Missouri, and him preaching about the Devil is the primary reason I made Abundant Life my home. Jesus preached four times more about Satan than He did about anything else, and I’m convinced God speaks through Pastor Phil in the same way. Pastor Phil brings awareness to Christians that our Enemy stalks us from the darkness, studying our weaknesses so he can ultimately offer us the bait to capture our souls.

In this book, Pastor Phil shines light on Satan’s tactics and combats them with Scripture that arms us with insight on defeating the Evil One.

I Thought I Knew…

To be honest, as a spiritual warfare writer and having read the Bible cover to cover, I thought I knew Satan pretty well. After reading this book, it turns out I’ve only been familiar with the Devil. I wasn’t aware of him at all, let alone with the true reason that he has no power over us.

Maybe it’s just the way Pastor Phil phrases it that made it clear because so much of how Satan works seems obvious. I knew the foundation of Satan’s functionality, but not the root of it. Like many Christians, I learned a lot of what I knew about the Bible, about God and the Devil from what other Christians said. Which is sort of as reliable as diagnosing yourself medically through WebMD. But Pastor Phil set the information straight for me in this book, and I finally understand:

Why Satan is who he isWhy he attacks usHow he attacks us, andWhy we as Christians have dominion over him

Identifying Satan

Did you know that Satan was a musical instrument? Or that he was meant to be the worship leader for the angelic hosts? We probably all know that he was once an angel of light, but there are so many details about Satan that I learned in the first two chapters of this book.

It’s vital when in battle that you really know who you’re facing off with, and after reading this book, I definitely feel confident facing the Devil. I know who he disguises himself as: fear, doubt, lust, shame, guilt. But now I know what he looks like under the surface: a fallen angel that once was light and has been judged by God to become darkness.

Knowing who I’m up against gives me the confidence to rip off the mask of Satan like Mystery Inc. does to the villains in Scooby-Doo. I’m never surprised that it’s Satan under the mask now. But because of this book, because I know who Satan really is and who he was, I can identify more quickly when he’s present in my life and unmask the guilt as the Devil, unmask the shame as the Devil, unmask the doubt as the Devil.

If I could recommend only one book to others for the rest of my life (excluding the Bible), this book would be the one I choose. It’s packed with information every Christian should know about their adversary. If knowledge is power, I feel spiritually supercharged after reading this! They always say that the voices in your life influence your destination. Listen to Jesus speak through Phil Hopper in this book and you’ll most definitely be free of captivity to sin and bound for eternity in Heaven.

Follow Phil Hopper

Twitter

Instagram

Facebook

Abundant Life Church

Website

Email

Easter Eggs are Pagan Worship

Eostre

Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to participate in Easter egg hunts because my mother considered the activity worship to a pagan god. Even now, as I filled Easter eggs for my children for this upcoming Resurrection Day, my mother opposed the ritual saying it was against God. Now, she never knew which god it was that these eggs were symbols of, she thought it was a fertility goddess. Turns out she was right for thinking it, but wrong for believing it.

“Easter first started out as a celebration of the Spring Equinox: a time when all of nature is awakened from the slumber of winter and the cycle of renewal begins. Anglo-Saxon pagans celebrated this time of rebirth by invoking Ēostre or Ostara, the goddess of spring, the dawn, and fertility.” (Source: Easter May Have Started out as a Sex Ritual and Here’s Why (theculturetrip.com))

Source: Wikipedia

Eostre is all over the internet. Everyone has a slightly different perception of her origin and how she ties into the egg tradition. Take, for example, this suggestion whose source is the Food Network:

“Easter eggs potentially stem from a pagan myth surrounding the goddess Eostre, who revived a dying bird and turned it into the iconic egg-laying rabbit, who in turn gifted Eostre with colorful eggs (via Food Network Canada).”

(Source: The Pagan Origin Of Painted Easter Eggs (mashed.com))

The only documented connection between Eostre and eggs is by one single man: an English monk named Venerable Bede. And even in that document, he only mentions her name in association with the celebration of the Spring Equinox (Source: Bede, on ‘Eostre’ (tertullian.org))

In an article on Haaretz.com (a Jewish online newspaper published in Israel but translated to English online) tries to pinpoint an exact origin of the decorating of eggs that Christians do on Easter based on how the Jews use the egg in celebration of the Passover. Author Elon Gilad suggests the tradition could have Slavic or Mesopotamian origin.

The point is…the Christian tradition of decorating eggs and hunting plastic eggs filled with candy has no direct, documented origin.

Jewish Seder May be the True Origin

“The Passover Seder is a ritual feast that marks the beginning of the Jewish holiday of the Passover. It is conducted throughout the world on the eve of the 15th day of Nisan (April) in the Hebrew calendar.” (Source: Passover Seder – Wikipedia)

The hard-boiled egg in the Seder is used to symbolize the mourning of the fallen temple of sacrifice in Jerusalem. During the Seder, the egg is cracked and peeled and dipped in saltwater that represents tears of mourning for their sacred temple had fallen. But, as Susan from Jews for Jesus said in a recent sermon at Abundant Life where she taught the Seder tradition, the egg now represents the beautiful resurrection of the Temple as it was rebuilt in three days. Sounds the most familiar to Easter, huh?

Source: livingproof.co

You can watch the full sermon of the Jewish Seder tradition here: Jews for Jesus Explains Christ in the Passover — Abundant Life (livingproof.co)

Taking it Back to Jesus

Just as Christians did with the pagan holiday of Halloween, we’re taking back the pagan idea of Easter belonging to a fertility goddess. Instead of worshipping the eggs or the season, we’re celebrating the death and resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. And we’re going to use the egg as a symbol of life. That our God is not dead in the tomb; he is alive in Heaven.

Source: Pinterest

Consider This…

From a child’s perspective, I always thought the egg hunt was a fun activity. Like pin the tail on the donkey or sack races. Easter eggs are the child’s way of participating in the celebration of the holiday. Perhaps your children are young and simply don’t understand the holiday quite yet. Or perhaps they’re older and understand it, but aren’t sure how to celebrate it. The eggs are their opportunity to feel apart of the festivity. And your children only know the eggs for what you teach them the eggs represent. If you don’t teach them to use the eggs for Christ, the world will teach them that the eggs are for a false idol.

At our Easters, we have a special egg that contains a Cross. Whereas most people use money as incentives, we decided to do a hunt for the Most Special Egg of All. The Most Special Egg containing the Cross keeps the egg hunt Christ-centered by teaching the kids that candy is good, but Jesus is the true reward. Perhaps you can incorporate something of the sort for your egg hunt!

Amazon sells a set of plastic eggs that are decorated with Crosses for Resurrection Day. Each egg comes with a piece of the story from Palm Sunday to Resurrection Sunday, which is an awesome way of keeping the hunt Scripture-focused. You can buy the eggs here:

Let’s take Easter back to Jesus. No matter where Easter eggs came from, all that matters is they’re going to point the glory back to God. It’s all in the matter of how you use them to celebrate and indoctrinate your children.

Happy Resurrection Day, brothers and sisters in Christ!

How do you and your family celebrate with eggs on Resurrection Sunday? Drop a comment. Bonus for comments with pictures!

Manual for Spiritual Warfare by: Paul Thigpen

Synopsis

A fierce war rages for your soul. Are you ready for battle?

Like it or not, you are at war. You face a powerful enemy out to destroy you. You live on the battlefield, so you can’t escape the conflict.

It’s a spiritual war with crucial consequences in your everyday life and its outcome will determine your eternal destiny.

You must engage the Enemy. And as you fight, you need a Manual for Spiritual Warfare.

This guide for spiritual warriors will help you recognize, resist, and overcome the Devil’s attacks. Part One, “Preparing for Battle,” answers these critical questions:

– Who is Satan, and what powers does he have?
– What are his typical strategies?
– Who fights him alongside us in battle?
– What spiritual weapons and armor do we possess?
– How do we keep the Enemy out of our camp?
Part Two, “Aids in Battle,” provides you these essential resources:

– Teaching about spiritual warfare from Scripture and Church documents
– Scripture verses for battle
– Wisdom and inspiration from saints who fought Satan
– Prayers for protection, deliverance, and victory
– Rosary meditations, hymns, and other devotions for spiritual combat


St. Paul urges us to “fight the good fight of the faith” (1 Tim 6:12). Take this Manual for Spiritual Warfare with you into battle.

Review

Considering how well of a job that synopsis did at describing what the book is about, I’m just going to speak from a reader’s standpoint. I have been a spiritual warrior all my life: fighting the demonic in my personal life, teaching it on my blog, writing it into fiction. This handbook (that is just small enough to tote everywhere) is a great resource for all those who are active in the battle against the Evil One (which should be all of us Christians). Your fight doesn’t have to be quite grand like The Conjuring. In fact, our every day battles with Satan are much smaller and harder to detect than that.

“The ordinary activity of demons is subtle and occurs within our thought life.”

– PAge 12

The mind is his battlefield, and every time you resist habitual temptation, every time you control your tongue from speaking evil, every time you choose love instead of anger, you’re fighting the holy fight.

This book arms you with Scripture-centered knowledge, verses, and prayers. It also teaches you what weapons to include in your arsenal and how to put on the armor of God spoken of in Ephesians. So you know not only WHOM you’re fighting, but also HOW to fight him.

One of my favorite parts of the whole book, however, is the mentioning of the saints. Before reading this book, I had never understood why it was important to learn about saints that weren’t included in the Bible. If they aren’t in the Bible, they aren’t important, right? However, my understanding of the saints comes from Thigpen’s line on page 123: “The saints are veterans of the spiritual war that continues to rage in this world.” Saints are veterans to the war we’re currently facing. We can learn from their experience. I had never thought about it like that before.

Stand firm on the Word of God. Believe nothing and no one of this world that contradicts Scripture.

Definitely pick this book up. It’s not a replacement for your Bible; this book is an addition to it. The way a Bible app summarizes the books of the Bible for ease of grasping, this manual compiles the Scripture, saints, prayers, and weapons necessary to battle the Serpent.

Attacked During my Fast

This is not a post about what “fasting” means or how to fast. There is a wonderful post about that content written by Vladimir Savchuk.: Beginners Guide to Fasting – Hungry Generation. I’m here to arm you with expectations of the Devil’s tactics during your fast.

I recently partook in a full fast which means from nine am to nine pm for a week, I abstained from eating food and only drank liquids. I wanted to fast as a demonstration of my discipline to God. Anytime there is obedience to God, Satan loathes us more and tries to infiltrate our minds to corrupt our devotion.

Here’s how he played with mine:

Day 1: No effect

I am used to not eating during the seven hours I’m at work a day, so it didn’t feel as though anything had changed.

Day 2: Slight effect of not remembering I was fasting

My fast metabolism results in a snacking lifestyle. So, when my body was used to snacking (when I get home from work and when I sit down at my computer at night to write) my brain was triggered to grab something from my snack cabinet. And I was so distracted by responsibilities, work, etc. that I had to forcibly remember I was fasting.

Day 3: Forgetting the fast again; harder at suppertime

Again, those snack times were triggered in my brain and it became a mind over matter type of struggle. I’m not hungry, I’m just used to eating at this time. At supper, it was harder to sit and watch my kids eat delicious food that I couldn’t partake in. I was noticeably hungry, and had to tame my mind into obedience.

Day 4: Tempted at work with pizza

Satan tempted me with my favorite food. My boss had ordered pizza and offered me some. I agreed to eat the pizza when it arrived. It took me a whole fifteen minutes to remember I was fasting, and when the pizza got there I turned down the opportunity to eat.

Later, one of my other bosses posed me like this, “So, I heard you’re fasting.”

Me: “I am.”

Him with a bit of condescension: “Well, if that’s what you want to do.”

Me: “It IS what I choose to do, and it is my pleasure to serve the Lord.”

Day 5: Temptation to cut the fast short by days and to indulge in small exceptions like bubblegum

Not that avoiding bubblegum is apart of all fasts, but I had chosen specifically in the beginning that I wouldn’t eat ice cream or chew bubblegum as a way to pass the time during the fast. Satan repeatedly tempted me this day to chew gum to appease my hunger. I refused, disciplining my brain into obeying my promise to God.

Satan also tempted me to cut the fast short. He tried to convince me that I had done a good enough job making it five days and that five days is “technically” a work week, so I had gone a week in a way. I refused that thinking and vowed to keep the fast until Sunday as I had originally decided.

Day 6: Disdain from my family

Telling my family that I’ve been fasting for twelve hours a day, all of their reactions had negative connotations. My sister expressed that it’s not healthy for someone to go that long without eating, and that her metabolism could never sustain not having food for that amount of time. I explained from experience that you can survive, and even with a fast metabolism it is possible.

Day 7: Pity party

During supper when my whole family was eating together, everyone expressed their sorrow for my inability to eat with them. Like I had contracted a disease that made me a black sheep, and they were sorry for my suffering.

I wasn’t suffering by not eating, I was honoring God. Every time they would apologize for eating in front of me, or for eating without me, I’d follow up with the same thing, “It is my pleasure not to eat during my fast. It brings me great joy to be obedient for the Lord.”

The last night of my fast, my mother had cooked breakfast for supper.

So, there you have it. Satan tempted me in these ways:

Distracting me from my fast so I was tempted to break it several times.Trying to convince me that the length I had gone was “good enough” and that I should call it quits ahead of schedule.Speaking for others (like my boss and sister) to convince me it’s unhealthy and undesirable to fast.Trying to convince me to give into small pleasures (like bubblegum)Arousing doubt by trying to convince me that certain foods (like ice cream) weren’t technically food.

When I prayed on the 7th day in my kitchen at nine pm when the fast had been completed, I told God how surprised I was that I didn’t break the fast and abandon it earlier than scheduled. As a sinner, I have a tendency to do that. It was unlike me to be able to resist the temptation of the Devil.

Then I realized, when I had abandoned myself during the fast and trained my mind on the Lord, it was HIM in me that allowed me to conquer Satan’s wiles during the fast.

It was the very absence of myself that activated the Holy Spirit, and everything else literally became crystal clear. I was able to catch myself forgetting the fast and laugh in the Devil’s face that he almost got me. I was able to hear the Evil One speak through my boss when he shamed me for my fast. I was able to see the Devil’s temptations and resist them. Like being able to see landmines under the sand with x-ray vision and dance around them gloriously. It was awesome to FEEL so pure. To BE so pure. To be so close to God. I’ve never experienced anything like it, and I can’t wait to do it again.

Beware during your fasts. This is how the Devil tempted me but trust me when I tell you that he plans to do the same thing to you. To get you to give up, to get you to give in. Don’t. You’re stronger than that because Christ is alive in you. Call upon Christ in your moments of weakness. Prayer is your weapon against the Evil One.

“For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.”

– Romans 8:6

Fasting is the opportunity to get closer to God through obedience. To master your flesh and bring all thoughts into captivity. If a sinner like me can do it, I have faith that you can too!

If you have any questions, thoughts, or would like to share your fasting journey, I’d love to hear it in the comment section below! Thank you for reading!

Photo Sources:

Cover Photo: Madisyn on PinterestBreakfast Photo: PinterestHoly Spirit Photo: Pinterest

Chapter 5: The Tall Lady

“The last tenants said she comes out promptly at four-fifteen. Same time she died.” Anja closed the file and handed it back to Dante.

Dante accepted the file from her and glanced at his watch. “Almost five past four now.”

“We’re right on time,” Anja said with a positive smile.

Dante cradled her face in both his hands. “Don’t die.”

Anja gave a confirming nod.

Dante punched the code into the lock box on the rental property, pulled the lock box off the door handle, and pushed the door into the vacant house.

Anja patted his shoulder on her way inside.

Dante pulled the door shut behind her.

The house felt empty, which seemed odd. With its traumatic history and reports of paranormal attacks, the house should feel oppressed by the presence of the Tall Lady.

Unless the residual timing blanketed the negativity of her spirit. Precisely fifteen minutes past the hour, the energy of the Tall Lady’s death would open the threshold to Purgatory, allowing the evil spirit to wander the halls of her home once again. Then, her malicious intent to torment and kill children would afflict the property, giving it the haunted house impression suiting its history.

Anja glanced at her watch. Ten minutes past four. Plenty of time for a tour.

Dark wood flooring met with clean white baseboards. Drab tan walls deserved a refreshing paint job. Maybe a pastel blue or cheery yellow. Something to officiate the house cleansing.

Anja wandered into the kitchen. A corner to cook in, a dining room that might fit a four-person table. Anja circled back into the living room suitable for a couch and loveseat in front of the fireplace.

The hallway to the left of the front door led to the bedrooms. Two on the left at the end of the hall, the master bed on the right. Bathroom first door on the left. Anja chose not to linger there. Not to stare at the bathtub that took a woman’s life. Not to stand in the hallway where the crime happened. A tragedy too grim to be possible, let alone to meditate on.

Anja returned to the front room. From that vantage point, with her back to the front door, she would see every possible attack coming.

Four-fourteen, she read on her watch.

Sixty seconds until her manifestation.

Anja detached the bottom half of her crucifix necklace. A three inch blade—slender and silver and sharp—extended out of the handle. She gripped the small knife like a push dagger. Small but deadly. With that point, a single puncture in the right place could be critical. Punctures in several of those places could be fatal. Anja knew all the right places.

Gurgling and dripping sounded to Anja’s left.

It’s time, she thought.

The water was shut off months ago when the last tenants abandoned the house, but splashing and spilling confirmed that something in the bathroom overflowed. Water trickled out into the hall.

Electricity—that was shut off when the water was—buzzed and flashed purple light from the bathroom. The room where the Tall Lady had killed herself in a bloody bath.

“Mommy, please!” came from Anja’s right. She heard tiny feet scampering away, but saw no children.

Splashing footsteps in water approached.

Anja faced the hall again. Opposite of the bathroom, a shadow grew upon the wall. Taller, closer, splash, splash. The shadow of the figure curved up onto the ceiling.

Six foot two, the file had read.

The Tall Lady.

Out from around the corner, the figure slowly strode into the hall in a long dress and high-laced boots.

Anja’s eyes enlarged as she gaped at the woman.

“Those little bastards. Always calling me, always crying, always making sound.” The Tall Lady stared at her shadow on the wall, mumbling to herself. “Always calling me, always crying, always…making…sound.”

A shiver down Anja’s spine prickled her skin with goosebumps.

The Tall Lady slowly turned until she saw Anja.

Anja gasped, thinking maybe if she didn’t move, didn’t breathe, the Tall Lady would resume her residual chanting. But the Tall Lady cocked her head as she side-stepped to acknowledge Anja.

In the flashing light of the bathroom, Anja made out black sockets for the Tall Lady’s eyes, pale white skin, and dark hair pulled up into a bun. She wore a handmaid’s dress that was white from the shoulders to the waist. At the waist, blood stains smeared down to the ripped bottom.

“You’re not a child. But you can see me.”

Anja gripped her dagger.

The Tall Lady revealed a steak knife.

“Do you have children?”

Splash.

Here she comes.

“Noooo.”

Splash.

“Not with hips like those you don’t.”

Anja retreated a step for every step of the Tall Lady’s approach. Each step lured the ghost out of the narrow hallway into a better battlefield: the spacious living room.

“Do you want to have children?”

At the end of the hall, too far from the bathroom light and blocked from what little sunlight remained of the evening, darkness veiled the Tall Lady’s features. As a black shadow, she towered over Anja. The top of Anja’s head reached the Tall Lady’s bosom. Anja calculated that all her punctures would have to be below the breasts. Any higher and the Tall Lady would see the dagger coming. Thigh, abdomen, or in the tricep if possible.

“You do want to be a mother,” the Tall Lady whispered from the dark.

Anja held her breath. Fight response triggered. Blood pumped to her limbs.

“Then I’ll cut out your parts so you can’t!”

The Tall Lady lunged out at Anja, slashing with the steak knife.

Anja reflexively ducked and punctured the Tall Lady in the stomach.

Oblivious to her wound, the ghost stabbed down at Anja.

Anja stopped the knife before penetration.

The Tall Lady stacked one hand on top of the other to drill the knife into Anja’s face.

Anja groaned as she resisted the ghost’s strength. “aaaAAH-HUH!” Anja kicked the Tall Lady in the gut. They separated.

Growling and snapping, the Tall Lady thrust herself at Anja. Slash right, slash left. Anja retreated, dodged the first slash, blocked the second, blocked a surprise kick and stabbed her dagger into the Tall Lady’s femoral artery. The second puncture to go unnoticed by the Tall Lady.

Having drawn the Tall Lady out into the dimming light of dusk, Anja saw the blood stains on her dress more clearly as tiny handprints that glided down into a pool of blood.

“Mommy, please!” echoed in the halls from the past.

The tiniest plea produced the grandest devastation. Those three-year-old twins were really dead. The Tall Lady had slit her own children’s throats with a steak knife. Even in death, the children had reached for the one person who was supposed to protect them.

The Tall Lady aimed the serrated side of her blade at Anja’s throat. Anja exerted all her strength against the steak knife and forced it away just enough to duck. The slice went over her head, and the Tall Lady practically bent herself in half missing her mark.

Anja kneed the Tall Lady in the chest. The Tall Lady’s body hiccuped with the force.

Anja swept the Tall Lady’s feet out from under her.

The Tall Lady thudded hard facedown on the floor.

“Never fought anyone capable of fighting back, have you?” Anja said.

The Tall Lady raged in embarrassment. She scrambled to her feet and charged to tackle. Anja threw away the train of her floor-length dress to expose her legs. When the Tall Lady got close enough, Anja kicked her in the side. The Tall Lady crippled with the pain, and Anja took advantage of the ghost being on her level with a kick to the head. Foot connected to face and the Tall Lady went down a second time, the steak knife skidding away.

The Tall Lady tucked her head into her chest as a guttural growl rumbled in her chest. Her fingers clawed long scratches into the wood. She got to her knees then to her feet.

Come on, drain, Anja thought.

“AHHH!” The Tall Lady ran at Anja with wicked claws, slashing right and left. Anja dodged each attack, noticing the fresh red stains on the Tall Lady’s dress under the arm and on the stomach where she had been stabbed.

“Got you!”

Distracted by the blood, Anja allowed herself to be captured by the throat.

The Tall Lady picked Anja up off her feet so their eyes could level. “She screamed because of the blood, you know?”

The echo of that night replayed for Anja. Behind where she dangled, being choked, Anja heard grunting and whimpering and a child’s body thudding to the floor.

“Mommy, please, no.”

A little girl’s blood-curdling scream continued until a squelch silenced her. More grunting, spitting and crying followed by another thud.

“She never screamed again.”

Anja’s eyes stung with tears.

“I finally found peace.”

Anja plunged her dagger twice into the Tall Lady’s jugular.

“UGH!”

The Tall Lady dropped Anja to her feet. The Tall Lady tapped her neck wound and the sight of blood shocked her. “You BITCH!”

The ghost hashed her claws at Anja again. This time, Anja let her. The Tall Lady’s hands phased straight through Anja’s head. Betrayed by her strength, the Tall Lady stared at her hands and panicked at their transparency.

“What’s happening to me?” She noticed the fresh blood on her dress. “I’m bleeding.”

“You think you are. That’s what you remember should happen when you get stabbed. What’s really happening is you’re losing energy. I drained your apparition of energy and exposed your soul.”

The Tall Lady fell to her knees and pressed both bloody hands to the wood to brace herself. Energy in the manifestation of blood released from the ghost’s apparition, withdrawing solidity and strength.

“What’ve you done to me?” the Tall Lady said.

“You killed your babies for peace and quiet. And you denied God after you committed suicide. You chose this.”

“They deserved it.”

The Tall Lady flashed a jagged smile, proud of her sin.

A flame sparked on the floor between the Tall Lady’s hands. The candle-sized flame shot off in opposite directions, forming a complete circle around the ghost. The ring of fire collapsed under the Tall Lady and flames spurred up, consuming her in hellfire. She tried to crawl out of the circle to escape the pain, but the fire blazed into an impenetrable wall.

A pair of black, leathery hands extended from the pit of the eternal flame and grasped the Tall Lady’s dress. She reached for Anja, but devilish hands yanked her to Hell. The core of the earth swallowed the ghost and the flames. The ring of fire retracted to its starting point and flickered out with a satisfying tssst.

The house cleansing was successful.

Anja reattached the dagger to the base of her necklace. Rubbing her neck where the Tall Lady had choked her, Anja wandered to and opened the front door. Dante turned with hopeful eyes. Instinctively, he checked her from head to toe for wounds.

“You hurt?” he said.

“It’s done,” Anja said.

Dante got a good look at her sad eyes. “Something’s wrong.”

Anja pointed over her shoulder. “There was some damage.”

Dante glanced into the house and saw the claw marks on the wall, the burn mark on the floor. He reached in and pulled the door closed. “You know I don’t care about that. What happened?”

Anja slumped down the porch steps and away from the house. Dante followed her to the sidewalk before tugging her elbow. “Anja, what was it?”

Anja lifted her teary eyes to Dante. “She really killed those kids.”

Dante deflated with understanding. “Yeah, she did.”

Tears dripped from Anja’s eyes. “I heard that little girl scream, ‘Mommy, please.’ She begged for her life at three years old. I heard the knife on their throats, them gasping and choking and their little bodies. I saw…” Anja gasped as the emotion of all of it bombarded her. “I saw their handprints on her dress.” She showed Dante her palms. “Tiny handprints in their own blood.”

“Oh, Anja, I’m so sorry.” Dante pushed her hands together and pulled her into his arms. “But hey…”

Anja sniffled as she met his eyes.

Dante brushed away the sunshine-blonde hair stuck to her tears. “Anja, those children are in Heaven. In utopia pain doesn’t exist. So that woman’s crimes can never hurt them again, okay?”

Anja wiped her face. “How could anyone do such a thing? Hurt someone so harmless and defenseless?”

Dante lifted her chin to survey the redness on her neck. “Think you’re upset because of the personal connection?”

Anja waited in his eyes for an elaboration.

“Innocent and harmless,” he said as he rubbed her shoulders to comfort her. “Hurt by someone meant to protect you.”

Anja covered the brownish scar on her right forearm as if by doing so, she could hide the truth in Dante’s words.

“You suffered their pain,” Dante said. “But you know what the difference is?”

“I had a fighting chance?”

“You survived.” Dante guided her by the small of her back to his Dodge Durango. “Your work’s not done yet. You liberated their demon. Now it’s time to liberate yours.” He opened the passenger door and Anja climbed in. “After you recuperate, you know.”

“Maybe a nap and supper first?”

“Celebration dinner?”

“After I pray for cleansing.”

“I’ve got a restaurant in mind,” Dante said.

“Somewhere new?”

“Somewhere you’ll love,” he said with a boyish smile. “I’mna go put the lock back on the door. Hang tight, okay?” Dante closed her door.

Anja watched Dante through the car window, and suddenly felt very alone without him. Secluded and vulnerable and afraid. Like she’d walked down the wrong alley at night and stumbled on trouble.

Must be an echo of the fight, she thought. Remnants of the Tall Lady’s hatred poisoning Anja’s aura. Making her feel suffocated in the completely sealed car. Overemphasizing her distance from Dante.

“Hello, bave.”

Anja gasped so hard her chest tightened and her back went ramrod straight.

“Miss me?” a voice growled from the backseat.

“NO!”

A coal-colored arm shot forward and wrapped around Anja’s throat, crushing her windpipe. Anja gasped for air, but scratching at the arm proved useless. She abandoned getting her windpipe free to reach for the door handle.

“You’ll never beat me,” the demonic voice said.

“C…c…c..” Can’t breathe…

Anja banged her hand on the door, desperate to catch Dante’s attention. She felt darkness nearing. Her sight narrowed as if the curtain on her existence began to close.

“You couldn’t save him before, you can’t save him now,” the voice said.

As if in her final moment of life, Anja saw her entire relationship with her ex-boyfriend Sal from start to end. All the good, the scary, and the forgotten. All of it resurfaced in a flash before her mind’s eye and punched her healed heart.

“We miss you, Anja,” Sal said through the demon’s voice.

NO! Dante, HELP! she screamed internally.

The driver’s door opened. “…drop you off at the Azer? I could—”

The demon vanished.

Air gushed into Anja’s lungs. She exhaled cries and crumbled in her seat, rubbing her sore throat.

“Whoa, whoa, what happened?” Dante said.

“I saw…” She strained to tell and abandoned the story for a one-word summary, “Helizar.”

“Here?” Dante glanced at the backseat.

Anja threw her head back into the headrest, struggling to catch her breath.

“You just can’t catch a break, huh?”

“No more,” Anja whispered. “This has to end. Now.”

Copyright © 2022 Danny Raye. All Rights Reserved.

Read from the beginning here:

Chapter 1: 60 Seconds

Previous Chapter

Read the rest of Cursed by Cobrador when it’s released March 2022!

Cursed by Cobrador: Available for Purchase!

After four years of writing, editing, beta reading, and editing some more, Cursed by Cobrador is finally here! E-book and paperback versions available:

No one will ever know the sacrifices it took to create this book. Publishing it won’t restore the entire nights of sleep I lost or the hours I could have been with my kids; publishing won’t wipe away the tears I wept for characters lost and costly mistakes made through the process; publishing won’t have made any of it all worth it.

But YOU reading the book will.

Sorry it’s blurry. It was a raw moment of pure joy.

Did You Know…(Cursed by Cobrador edition)

Cursed by Cobrador used to be Crossed by Cobrador

In October 2018 when I officially became Writer Danny Raye, I launched a blogged book called Crossed by Cobrador. The story was written to establish my voice for the writing community to hear and follow, if interested. My intention with the book was to publish a chapter a week on my blog to gain an audience that would carry over to my debut novel upon publication day.

I hired my Greek artist, Christos Karapanos, to give the blogged book an identity that I owned by illustrating a cover only to be used online. But as soon as I saw the cover and I “met” all of my characters through his realistic art, I knew the book deserved more.

So I had to take all forty-seven chapters of the book and convert them from “blog” to “novel”. I changed the title to suit the spiritual warfare genre, and voila. Cursed by Cobrador was born into a journey toward physical publication.

This origin story is also why the book’s first five chapters will permanently live on my site. It’s sentimental. This website is where the book was born.

Operation Takedown is Real

The drug bust that Danillo organizes to shut down Cobrador’s narcotics empire was based off of an actual drug bust in the same city of Geneva in 2021. Police confiscated $162k in cash, 2 kilos of cocaine, and over 20 pounds of marijuana.

In Cursed by Cobrador, I used the same amount of cocaine and marijuana in my drug bust. I just distributed it based on average amounts and prices sold in Geneva in 2021. And I converted the $162,000 into amounts of heroine, marijuana and cocaine. It took me two days of research and a lot of mathematics to calculate everything evenly, and it only accounted for two chapters worth of content.

I needed the drug bust in the book to be significant enough to substantiate Cobrador’s “kingpin” title, but not unrealistically significant. You can read about the actual drug bust here: Democrat and Chronicle.

Credit: Democrat and Chronicle

Keitaro’s Name is Backward on Purpose

Kim Keitaro is the Korean way of saying Keitaro Kim. In Korea, the surname comes first and the given name comes last. So my character’s first name is Keitaro, and his last name is Kim. I purposely used the Korean order to honor his culture and ethnicity.

As a bonus, this is how you spell “Keitaro” in Korean:

HOW many readers?

Cursed by Cobrador went through four initial beta readers, two professional editors, and another beta read before I was prepared to approach publication. Having so many eyes on the project was less about perfectionism and more about perspective. The original book was tough and to the point. Somewhere along the writing process, the characters took an irrelevant romantic turn, and so I needed hardcore guidance back to the origin of the story: how God rescued Anja. Then it was about smoothing out the transition from what the manuscript had become back to what it was meant to be. After that, it was all about catching plot holes, character flaws, and cosmetic issues.

And here we are today, five beta reads and two professional edits later. Time to publish!

You can read Chapter 1 of Cursed by Cobrador here:

Chapter 1: 60 Seconds

Chapter 4: Defensive Coiling

“When Cobra first got arrested, he was brand new in the game.” Victor leaned on the hospital door and stared out the little window at Danillo in the hall. “Stupid mistake slipped up, Danillo caught it, next thing I knew, Cobra was in jail. Danillo sat me down. Asked me what I wanted to do with my life, why I was following Cobra’s footsteps. I told him Cobra was my best friend before he became Cobrador. Danillo told it to me real. Said if I didn’t opt out, Cobra was going to take me down with him. And now look at me. I’m six feet under.”

Victor wandered to the chair on the right side of the hospital bed.

“Are you still loyal to him now?” Keitaro said.

“To Cobra?” Victor shook his head as his eyes fell to his lap in disappointment. “Naw, man. He’s hurt enough people. I want him knocked on his ass.”

“Just like that? Cold turkey in one night?”

“I’m out of options. I can’t get out of this myself, I’ve tried.” He tugged the collar away from his neck. “The chain looks like it’s broken when you aren’t commanding me, but it’s not. I walked two miles down to the gas station and we were still connected. There’s no escaping it. Plus”—Victor rocked back in his chair like a pouting little boy—“a bullet to the head can inspire all kinds of change.”

Keitaro wrapped the chain around his knuckles to make it taut between him and Victor. “This stays. Until you can prove your loyalties have shifted.”

Victor’s head tipped back as the collar tightened. “I understand.”

Keitaro loosened the chain, and Victor’s head lowered into place.

“Cobra isn’t Cobra anymore, is he?”

“Cobra hasn’t been Cobra for a while now.”

“I know nothing about demons.”

“All I know is they’re soulless and strong. Cobra can bench our combined weight.”

“Know any priests?”

“I look like I go to church?”

Keitaro chuckled.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Defensive coiling.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s when snakes wrap their bodies around their heads to defend themselves. We uncoil Cobra.”

“Take out the body of the organization to get to the head of it.”

“Sound achievable?”

“Yeah.” Victor shifted forward to put his elbows on his knees. “How do you plan on taking everybody out if not by death? You know they won’t be so merciful toward you.”

“The law. We’ll use Danillo for the light work. We’ll find a priest to deal with Cobra.”

“And then?”

“I should be free of the necromancer curse.”

“What happens to me?”

“You’ll be free to decide where you’ll go next: Heaven or Hell.”

Victor took a moment to contemplate his personal freedom in the Afterlife.

“Can you believe I followed Cobra to save him?”

“I can.”

“ When someone’s going through addiction, you can’t force them out of it. They have to hit rock bottom and see for themselves how it’s destroying them. He got real low one night after getting his ass kicked by Rogue, the guy that used to own the 13 th Hour. Cobra was sober that night, hadn’t touched coke or bud or booze, and was crying, wanting back everything he’d lost. I thought, you know, it’s about damn time. He fell asleep, and when he woke up, he was different. I was looking right at my brother but I wasn’t seeing him. It was someone else in there.

“He started talking about going to take Rogue’s place. I thought he was crazy. He armed up, went in there guns blazing, blew the staff away. He tortured Rogue for hours. I wasn’t in the room, but I heard him screaming from outside of it. When we went in, blood was everywhere. I mean on the fucking ceiling, puddled on the carpet. And the fucking guy’s tied to a chair just…butchered. Sliced up and red all over.”

“You stayed because you feared Cobra.”

“You make me sound like a bitch, but yeah, that’s why. I was used to seeing people look like you look now. Beat up and shit. But that…seeing somebody mutilated…I’ma be honest, it scared the shit out of me. If he could do that to another human being, what would he do to me for opting out, you know?”

“Why not use the other medium?”

“The what?”

“Gunner said I wasn’t the only one who could see the dead.”

“No. They’re long gone.” Victor’s face stiffened. “And they’re staying that way.”

“It’s real, though? That wasn’t a scare tactic?”

“Yeah, but—”

“They’re here in this city?”

Victor refrained from admitting it verbally, but his whole demeanor confessed it anyway.

“You’re guarding them.”

“You would, too.”

“After Cobra is brought to justice, will you show me to them?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking me.”

Keitaro sensed regret. “What’d you do to them?”

The answer to that haunted Victor’s eyes.

Keitaro wound the chain around his knuckles again. “I can command you to speak.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“I respect privacy. But if the risk of Cobra cursing them arises, I’ll do whatever it takes to save them.”

“If it comes to that, you won’t have to command me to tell you their name. I’ll take you to them.”

Keitaro released the chain. “How did you even know I was a medium?”

“That demon knows things. Unspoken things. Especially your sins. He gave us your first name and told us to find you in Geneva. Took a lot of asking around, but a guy at your work finally gave us the answer we were looking for.”

“Which guy?”

“The fat manager. Asked him if ‘Keitaro’ was working yet, he said you wouldn’t be there until four. So we waited for you.

“We weren’t supposed to shoot you. It was supposed to be a simple pick up. We flash our guns in your face, you agree to go with us. But you fought back, so we reacted in self-defense.”

Keitaro glanced down at his arm cradled by the sling. “This was my first time being shot.”

“Thought you went down kinda easy considering how well you fought before we shot you.”

“It hurt a lot more than I could convince myself it didn’t.”

Keitaro stretched back to reach his cell phone and snatched it up. Defeated by shooting pains in his torso, he relaxed against the pillow a moment.

“That why you wanted to stay awhile? Soak up the pain meds?”

“No, I need to make arrangements. Danillo’s right. They know where I live, and they’re probably waiting for me to return to my car. I need a place to stay and a way to get there.” He downloaded the Uber app and scheduled a ride.

“I don’t even remember what color my clothes were.”

Keitaro looked up from his phone at the ghost.

“Everything here is like an old black and white movie. And I feel sad all the time. Not angry, not happy, not horny or hungry, just…sad.”

“You see no color?”

“Me and the other ghosts, yeah. The ones that would talk to me. They’re all over this fucking place, by the way.”

Keitaro closed his good eye, hoping not to encounter any during his stay.

“I’ve been thinking…All night I’ve been wondering…how do I get out?”

“Out of Purgatory?”

“Is that where I am?”

“You’re in between life and eternal life. Some people call it Purgatory, some call it the Afterlife. All I know is that if you lose too much energy, you’ll burn through the ground and you won’t come back.”

“But I can’t just stay here forever.”

“If you can go down, you can go up. Otherwise you wouldn’t be stuck between. Something tips the balance.”

“And that would be…?”

“Trading a sin for a good act or something.”

“You’re not sure?”

“I’ve never encountered a ghost desperate for salvation. If the ghost doesn’t challenge me or pose a threat, I ignore them. Opening yourself to the dead is as vulnerable as leaving your car unlocked with your wallet full of money in the passenger’s seat.”

“Fuck, man.” Victor smoothed his hand along his slicked back hair.

“Listen. If you help me take Cobra all the way to the exorcism, I swear I’ll find a way to save you. Not that it means much now, but I give you my word.”

Victor held onto Keitaro’s vow with what little hope he had left. “What do you wanna know?”

“What uncoiling the body of Cobrador’s empire looks like.”

“Okay then.” Victor leaned his elbows on his knees to think. “You start with his army at Las Casas.The Houses.”

“Which are?”

“Cobra’s three drug distributors. Each house is operated by one guy and his crew, and is overlooked by us. I was in charge of David’s grow house, which is weed. Raul’s house is a meth lab, that’s Gunner’s. Daniel’s house is where we cut the cocaine. Thiago oversaw that one.”

“Where do the Houses branch off to?”

“From Las Casas, products are sold to consumers. S treet dealers who distribute them to addicts, but all those people are who Danillo was talking about. Cobra calls, they rise. And trust me, I know a handful of them would kill you for a twenty dollar bill.”

“You know the dates and times when the drugs will be sold?”

“Thiago keeps the shipment logs in his office. It’s supposed to be all paperless. Word of mouth, you know? But to avoid hitting the same spots back to back and arousing suspicion, Thiago keeps the current shipment and previous shipment on file.”

“Think you can retrieve them?”

“Easily.”

“You know the location of all three Houses?”

“Yeah I do.”

“After we give their location to Danillo?”

“You’re gonna work with Danillo?”

“Cobra is his case. No one will be more on our side than him,” Keitaro said.

“You’re smart.” Victor wiped a smile from his mouth. “First you bust their shipment. When the drugs go out for sale, you get the mules. Then you get David, Raul, and Daniel.”

“After we eliminate Cobra’s army?”

“You take away his hiding spot.”

“The 13th Hour.”

“Without the club and all his guards, he’ll have nowhere to go and no one to hide behind.”

“So we shut it down. Then what?”

“Gunner and Thiago would be all he has left. One’s trigger happy and the other’s a mastermind, but together they’re totally dysfunctional.”

“Once they’re out of the picture?”

“The demon.”

“The exorcist will handle Dominus.”

“Then you’ll have Cobra all to yourself.”

Keitaro imagined that moment with excitement.

“You told Danillo you planned to take out Cobra’s empire before I told you you’d have to to get Cobra alone for the exorcism. Were you predicting you’d have to, or were you being ambitious?”

“The empire convinces Cobra he’s a criminal without consequence.”

“Power’s the most dangerous kind of drug.”

“Some men taste power and turn into monsters.”

“Some men were monsters already.”

Keitaro sensed a reason to pry but chose not to. “Think you can get the shipment logs while I check into a hotel?”

“Should be a good time.” Victor checked his wrist watch and laughed. “Habit.”

“What? Does time in Purgatory not match ours?”

“The hands on my watch are spinning. Time doesn’t exist here. Even your clocks are spinning. I can’t see daylight, couldn’t see the sun rise this morning. It stays the same here.”

“It’s almost four PM.”

“Cobra’s getting ready for work. Spends an hour in the bathroom shitting, then showering. He can’t start the process without picking motivational rap, then gels what little hair he has very particularly, spends another fifteen minutes hyping himself up flashing his reflection with his pistol.”

“He sounds like a work of art.”

“He waits until the last minute for everything, and he’s always late.”

Keitaro lifted his arm so the chain manifested. “We stay connected.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going in and coming right back out.”

“I won’t be here when you’re done. Find me at the Azer Hotel.”

Victor nodded and stood up from the chair.

“Victor.”

“What?”

“If my wallet’s still there…”

“Consider it done.”

Copyright © 2022 Danny Raye. All Rights Reserved.

Read from the beginning:

Chapter 1: 60 Seconds

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5: The Tall Lady will be posted 2/28/2022!

Chapter 3: Private Justice

“The burn on his back is permanent. We treated it with antibiotic ointment and bandaged it to protect it. He’ll need to wash it and bandage it twice a day, but allow it time to breathe to heal. He has a fractured rib, which will need time to heal on its own. The most severe of his injuries was the gunshot wound to his arm. The other concern is his face. The swelling will go down, but until he can get that left eye open, we won’t know the extent of the damage to his retina. We don’t anticipate there being any vision deficiencies.”

“I can see fine,” Keitaro said.

The doctor and the detective looked toward the hospital bed.

“Good morning, Keitaro. I’m Doctor Featherton.” The middle-aged doctor with reddish hair and glasses stood off to the left.

“I’m Detective Danillo.” The robust detective crossed his arms at the end of the bed.

From the guest chair on Keitaro’s right, Victor tilted his head back to show off the collar. “I’m still attached.”

Keitaro pushed himself up. All at once, pain overwhelmed and paralyzed him. He moaned and rested so the agony could subtly diminish. Trying to lean on his left hand to prop himself up made him remember the bullet that ripped through his bicep. He rocked to the left to sit straight, and the fractured rib thrashed through his entire torso.

“Easy now.” Doctor Featherton approached the bedside. “On a scale of one to ten—one being none and ten being the worst of your life—how much pain are you in?”

Having ten cotton balls shoved into his cheek and a five-pound eye patch over his left eye best described Keitaro’s physical discomfort. Add on top of that the excruciating, continuous pain of having moved every injured part of his body simultaneously and Keitaro reached, “Twelve.”

“Twelve?”

“Feels like Hiroshima in my head,” Keitaro said.

“Your painkillers should start kicking in any minute. You were just administered your scheduled dose about eight minutes ago.” Doctor Featherton removed the light from the wall. “All right. Follow the light for me.”

Keitaro did.

“That eye seems responsive and in-tact,” Doctor Featherton said.

The coarse fabric of the sling strap rubbed against Keitaro’s neck. He adjusted the strap more comfortably and heard jingling. Around his wrist he noticed the silver necromancer chain created a bracelet with a dangling link. He touched the single hanging link and the phantom chain manifested like a cord connecting him to Victor.

“Missing something?” Detective Danillo said.

Keitaro released the links and the phantom chain vanished.

“Missing a watch?” Detective Danillo said.

“Phone and car keys,” Keitaro said.

“Your phone and keys are there.” Detective Danillo pointed to the bedside table. “Can you tell me what happened to you last night?”

“I was mugged,” Keitaro said.

“So, Keitaro, you suffered several injuries in your mugging,” Doctor Featherton said. “Did you hear me tell the detective what those were?”

Keitaro nodded.

“Do you have any questions about what I’ve said?”

“Is there anything keeping me from being discharged?”

“Honestly, there’s nothing more the hospital can do as far as treatment,” Doctor Featherton said. “Your folder lists no emergency contacts or next of kin.”

“If I can stay until evening, that would be appreciated.”

“Of course. Nurse Margo will bring you an ice pack for the swelling on your face. Other than that, I’ll write you a prescription for pain, and you can be on your way when you’re ready.” Doctor Featherton snapped his folder closed, hugged it to his chest and nodded to the detective on his way out of the room.

Danillo rolled the stool to Keitaro’s bedside and took a seat. “Far as I’m concerned, you’re valuable enough for witness protection.”

Keitaro rested his head back on the pillow.

Danillo waved a slim folder. “You up to answering a few questions?”

Keitaro responded with silence.

“Not in any way are you a suspect or under arrest at this time. This questioning is to identify a suspect behind your…’mugging’. Do you understand that?” Danillo said.

Keitaro nodded once.

“Good. Now. You left work at approximately eleven fifteen last night, is that correct?”

Keitaro nodded again.

“That’s when the 9-1-1 call was placed. A co-worker of yours claimed you were shot and being jumped and then that you were being taken. Can you tell me about that?”

Keitaro stared absently at the detective.

“No? Nothing?”

“Danillo is good people. You should talk to him,” Victor said.

“I picked you up outside a nightclub called the 13th Hour. It’s owned by a man named Cobrador. You recognize him?” Danillo held up a picture of Cobra.

Keitaro blinked at the picture.

“What are you doing?” Victor said.

“What about him?” Danillo held up a glossy picture of Victor.

Keitaro remained unchanged.

“These guys?” Pictures of Thiago and Gunner. “Look familiar?”

“He’s trying to help you,” Victor said.

Danillo sighed. “Look, kid, I need a name. I need something more than suspicion. I can’t go after the guys that did this if you don’t give me something to work with.”

Keitaro sipped from the cup of water at his bedside.

“Okay, let’s go this way then.” Danillo flipped a file open. “Kim Keitaro. You’re twenty-eight with no priors, no tickets, no criminal record. You work at the Roquefort. You own a house in uptown Auburn. You’ve got money in savings. Quite a bit actually, and none of it’s been touched since you were kidnapped, so I’m betting this attack wasn’t money-related.” Danillo flipped the folder closed on his index finger. “So you wanna tell me what it was about?”

Keitaro noted Danillo’s features. Slicked back black hair. Deep-set eyes under a strong brow. A thick, black goatee spreading up his cheeks. Wrinkles in his forehead from that constant tough-guy-no-bullshit expression. A blank black tee. A delicate tattoo of a white daisy on his dark tan forearm. Washed up blue jeans with combat boots.

“What do you want? A lawyer?” Danillo said.

“No.”

“No? Okay, then you gotta talk to me. Why were they after you? Tell me or I go digging. I’ll dig deep enough to find your skeletons.”

“Tell him what we did to you.” Victor approached the end of the bed. “Tell him Cobra cursed you. Tell him Gunner shot you. Tell him Cobra killed me. Tell him something!”

Keitaro’s eyes met Victor’s compassionately.

“I’m betting that you’ve got a skill Cobra wanted. He branded you as part of his nest. Some sort of initiation. What is it he wanted you to do?”

“It sounds crazy.” Victor laughed. “That’s why you’re not telling him. Because what Cobra wanted sounds insane. He wanted you because you can see dead people, and he wanted you to control those dead people with this.” Victor pulled on the collar.

“Look, they know where you work,” Danillo said. “Chances are they know where you live, too. Cobra will come after you for one of two reasons: to reclaim you as his property, or to kill you for insulting his authority. Either way, you keeping your mouth shut isn’t keeping you safe.”

“Cobra cursed me, and he’s going to regret it,” Keitaro said.

“So you do know him.”

“Only his name.”

Danillo rocked his head back and stroked his goatee. “Oh, I see. This is about private justice. You were wronged and you alone are going to make it right. Take the law into your own hands, huh?”
Keitaro shunned the detective for being snide.

“Let me just put into perspective what you’re involved in here. Cobradorin Spanish means ‘debt collector,’ and everybody owes him. You know how he claims his debts? Merciless torture and inhumane death. We’re not talking about a punk kid who gets high and plays with guns to look important. We’re talking about an unpredictable, well-armed drug addict with a basket full of snakes. He plays the right tune, they rise and strike.”

Keitaro remained emotionally unaffected, which Danillo read as fearlessness.

“I won’t let you kill him,” Danillo said.

“I’m not a killer,” Keitaro said.

“So what’s your plan then? You just gonna stir shit up and run like you did last night?”

“I’m gonna use my skill to take down his empire.”

“And you’re not gonna tell me what that skill is, huh?”

Keitaro said nothing.

“Digging it is.” Danillo pulled a business card out of his jacket and handed it to Keitaro. “In case you find the words I’m looking for.”

Danillo swung the hospital door closed behind himself.

Copyright © 2022 Danny Raye. All Rights Reserved.

Read from the beginning:

Chapter 1: 60 Seconds

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Falling for the Innkeeper by: Meghann Whistler

Synopsis

Single mom Laura Lessoway won’t accept her mother’s plan of selling her late grandmother’s inn without a fight. But when big-city attorney Jonathan Masters arrives to arrange an offer from his client, she’s drawn to him. And working together as he helps with repairs only brings them closer. With his career and her home on the line, can they ever find common ground?

Evaluation

I do not read romance novels. The romance genre is either far too unrealistic or all smut. Falling for the Innkeeper was nothing like what I expected. Founded on a realistic plot, these characters were merged by God and their love fell naturally. The issues they faced were so real it felt raw, and the ending wasn’t obvious which was a pleasant change.

I Fell in Love

I don’t know how Whistler did it, but I fell in love while reading this book. Two lines specifically made me gush:

“Then he watched her climb the stairs, feeling curiously disappointed that she’d been thinking of their challenge when all he’d been thinking about was…her.” (page 61)

“What he didn’t say was the word that was playing on an endless repeat loop in his head:

“Mine.” (page 166)

When I read the first line, I was disturbed (as not being a fan of romance) by how it swept me off my feet. I got butterflies and had this irresistible smile in my soul. That was a smooth line.

The second one was so much better than any account of sexual intimacy I’ve read in other romance novels. This was two souls uniting. This was falling in love, not falling into bed. What was happening between Jonathan and Laura was natural and holy and beautiful. It was real, and it got me good.

Christian Romance

Unlike mainstream romance that relies heavily on physical attraction (because sex sells), this book develops through an emotional and spiritual connection between two people. This is by far the most realistic way people fall in love that lasts. The “love” you read about in all those lust-driven pages of “romance” novels is but a page or two of thrill and pleasure. This entire BOOK was endorphin-inducing.

Author’s Natural-Born Talent

Usually when a writer picks a location for a book, especially somewhere that’s extraordinarily gorgeous or dear to their heart, they’ll do everything in their power to emphasize that as a theme in the book. It’s exhausting and has nothing to do with the plot or characters most of the time, and it’s just a bunch of useless description.

Whistler’s experience in Cape Cod crossed the pages naturally. Places she’s either been or imagined were crystal clear to picture. There was a subtle amount of detail that was included in the scene effortlessly. The way she described the characters, too, was downright beautiful. From fleet-footed treks across the rocks by the beach to shingle-roofed streets and candy shops with homey owners. Everything in the book felt so real it was as though I were embedded in the scene.

Before Falling for the Innkeeper, I have never read a romance novel that I would recommend to others. I’ll be buying this book for my sisters, my best friend, and I’ll be suggesting it every opportunity I get. Love stories that inspire hope, encourage vulnerability, and create realistic expectations are romance novels written right!

Follow Meghann Whistler

Bookbub

Goodreads

Amazon

Newsletter

Twitter