Sigils of the Old God
By- J.P. Moore
Genre- Epic Fantasy
Published By- Dragon Moon Press
Publication Date- November 2nd
Jamesport, Rhode Island, 1895 ...
Listen carefully. You may hear whispers of the city’s mysteries just below the howling of the wind through the rafters of the abandoned fish market. Odd creatures serve a witch in the haunted salt marshes. Sigils of ancient and forgotten magic mark the cliff overlooking the bay. A ruined stone tower of unknown age stands in the square. Do not speak too loudly of these mysteries, lest the Old God send his servants to silence you.
Fear Jacob, the most loyal and gifted of these assassins. He has killed many, from babbling ex-sailors who uncovered too many secrets in dark and faraway lands, to millionaires’ wives who summer in mansions on the cliff and wander one step too far into the occult.
But peer into Jacob’s eyes and you may see a hint of doubt. You may discover what you have suspected all along.
History is a lie.
The world is not what we think it is.
And, it is all about to come crashing to an end.
The lights flickered and went dark.
Jacob heard a voice. Rutledge. It sounded like the professor was right in his ear.
"We are all fallen angels of the Old God."
Jacob whirled, swinging his arms but hitting nothing. A boot struck him in the gut and the air leapt from his lungs. He slammed into the wall, dropping his revolver to the floor. He fell after it, reeling from the attack, his brain sending bright spirals into his vision.
Rutledge spoke again.
"I have seen it. The answers are so crushing, so disappointing."
The hoarse voice bounced throughout the tunnel. Jacob could not fix the source. He had lost his bearings altogether.
"But liberating," Rutledge continued. "Do you wonder how you came to be here, looking for me?"
Jacob blinked and shook his head to clear his eyes. He felt the floor for his revolver and landed upon the warm grip. He pulled it close.
"You deserve to know the answers," Rutledge said. His tone was calm, though there was something at its edge. Measured, but forced, the cadence threatened to break into howling laughter or an insane, raw-throated scream.
A sudden shuffling sounded to his right. Jacob fired and glimpsed the hallway in the flash. Rutledge fled around the bend. Jacob stood, dizzy at first but gaining balance, and vaulted down the tunnel. He turned, nearly slamming into a wheeled bin that had toppled from the tracks, spilling coal. Straight ahead, the tunnel turned upwards, perhaps to the street.But Rutledge, Jacob knew, had taken another route.
About the Author-
J. P. Moore lives and writes in southern New Jersey. Though his characters would feel right at home in the dark and mossy tracts of the Jersey Pine Barrens, the setting that he enjoys with his wife and three children is a long way from the worlds of his novels and stories. Moore's settings are on the brink. Their histories are lost, or misunderstood. Their futures are uncertain. All of the heroes are gone. Only the unlikely heroes are left.