Written with a noir flair, THE FAITHFUL is an Adult Urban Fantasy set in another world about a gangster's journey to becoming a god. It is complete at 85,000 words. It is the first novel in a series.
Complete at 85,000 words, THE FAITHFUL is a Fantasy Noir that combines the punch of True Detective with the dark fantasy of Alan Campbell's Deepgate Codex.
Raine Morgan is a mobster, the right hand of Na Creidmhigh. As a collector for the Family, he is recognized by most citizens. If he's after you, there's no hiding.
When he's tasked with hunting down two miscreants who have been messing with the bottom line, he thinks it will be an easy job. Raine utilizes all his sources to track them, only to find them assaulting a woman. He charges in, accidentally murdering her in the scuffle.
As news spreads of Raine's crimes, a greedy middleman overthrows the current leadership of Na Creidmhigh and works out a plan to dispose of the only man able to reclaim control: Raine.
A fugitive from the cops and the Family, Raine is determined to clear his name, delving deeper into the seedy underbelly of the city. It's only with the help of a friend inside the crumbling Na Creidmhigh as well as a streetwise artist that Raine remains undetected.
While eluding the authorities, Raine crosses paths with something far older than the Family. Killing the girl and damning his soul had some unexpected consequences: one being the attention of long forgotten gods.
As the old pantheon returns to the city they'd abandoned, they expect to find some naive god for them to manipulate. Instead, they find a man stripped of everything, intent on playing both sides as civil war erupts between them and they learn an awful reality - even gods can die.
Raine Morgan pulled a crushed pack from his jacket, fished out a twisted cigarette. A match's flame flickered then vanished. He took a drag, stared at the bars from his niche across the street. Neon flashed through the evening haze, calling the shuffling drunks out into the dead of night for some faintly promised tail.
The chill air reeked of the sea. In the distance, a bell dinged, signaling choppy waters and an endless night. He shifted position, regretted it when the blue light from Oki's Veins blinded him momentarily. A needling pain thrummed under his right eye, causing the light to sear his vision. He planted his arm to cover the thick pane of glass. Grasping his watch chain, Raine checked the time, shoved the piece back into his vest pocket with a sigh.
“Mr. Morgan,” a soft, earnest voice said. The man fumbled with a sheet of paper. It crinkled as he flipped it over.
Raine leaned into the brick. “Where to?”
“The Deserted Temple.”
Raine flicked his cigarette into a mound of trash and sauntered forward. He rolled his fingers against the night's bitter cold as if sliding a quarter along his knuckles. Turning a corner, he stopped at a rundown dive, chains rattling above where a sign should've hung. The Deserted Temple's shattered windows gleamed with candlelight. Its warped door hung ajar, ragged holes in the wood revealing mischief and deeds better left to dark corners.
He slipped in, hot air wafting over him as the cold chased in vain.