It’s been a slack weekend writing wise but I did get some planning done and reorganised the structure of the WIP slightly. To be clear, I mean Book II in my WIP series!
I don’t have a lot of motivation for writing at the moment, and I’m putting this down to an impending holiday (or vacation as my American friends call it). We’re off to Tasmania for 2 weeks as of Good Friday. Limited wifi, limited social media, and even limited electricity! It’s going to be fantastic.
So, with not much else to share, I thought I’d give you a very rough teaser from my current WIP.
A blisteringly hot wind exploded around Abigail, blinding and deafening her. Her body thrummed in pain as though the scorching wind was trying to suck her bones through her flesh. She screamed, her words obliterated beneath the roaring squall. Her curls tore free and whipped her face. The sandy ground beneath her feet shifted and she squinted at the blazing orange light that welled around her. Where Sloth lay, the sandy horizon behind him distorted beneath a pulsing oval of fire. The hot wind tugged her relentlessly, sucking her toward the swirling vortex. Abigail screamed and clutched Boothe’s arm. He flung a hand to his face to shield his eyes from the maelstrom of wind and dust. The roar was like a tornado and searing heat slammed into Abigail as she lurched closer to the swirling circle of fire.
Sloth sat up and raised his arms. Tendrils of fire snaked out from the portal and wrapped around his arms. The tendrils snapped taut and Sloth catapulted backward into the portal.
Abigail screamed and fought the burning, tugging wind that threatened to drag her into the vortex. Something crashed into her and knocked her feet out from under her. She clung to Boothe’s arm, her legs pulled horizontally by the incessant wind. Curls flying in front of her eyes, she squinted and made out the terrified face of her father as he and Paul slid into the portal.
She lost sight of Joseph’s panicked face as flaming tendrils shot past him and wound around her legs. She kicked and bucked but the burning tendrils of fire welded to her flesh. She bit her tongue as they jerked her backward. She glared at Boothe and screamed, “Don’t let go!”
Boothe’s face screwed up as the wind tugged and pulled. Abigail felt his gloves begin to peel off his fingers.
The gloves slipped free and the squalling tempest shrieked. The fiery tendrils around Abigail’s legs wrenched her into the swirling orange vortex. Her lungs burned and agony fired her nerve-endings as she shot into the portal. A sucking vacuum stole the breath from her lungs and ice-cold replaced the burning heat of the portal. Abigail flipped head over heels through a stygian blackness unable to breathe, unable to scream, lost in eternal darkness…
Excerpt – Sins of the Lamb – Book 2 of The Armageddon Showdown