PAGAN MOON: a Mike Gage Thriller (Mike Gage Thrillers Book 1)

From the savage Everglades to opulent Palm Beach, sheriff’s detective Mike Gage pursues a death cult no one else believes exists. Gage knows they do—his former lover was one of its ritually sacrificed victims. Obsessed with her murder, Mike becomes a homicide cop. Throughout his career more women’s bodies turn up throughout South Florida, all the same mutilation—the brutal extraction of the heart. When a pretty coed eventually escapes the cult's bloody altar, Gage is shocked when powerful philanthropist and financier Quentin Van Eck is exposed as the group’s high priest. After Van Eck’s mysterious death, his body is cryogenically preserved. That’s when Gage begins to unravel the truth behind Van Eck’s Virilian Foundation and the sinister evil lurking beneath its respectable facade. Assisted by Van Eck’s beautiful widow and a mysterious Frenchman with ties to the ancient Templar order, Gage uncovers the cult’s apocalyptic objective. Cryonic suspension, human sacrifice and satanic worship formulate the alchemy to incarnate a malevolent spirit that will enslave mankind. Battling the embodiment of evil, Gage challenges a power that could not only take is life but his very soul. James Patterson meets Stephen King

From the Back Cover

"Genres collide in this ambitious first novel byWilliam G. Davis. Imagine Dirty Harry Callahan making his day in thesatanic shadows of the Sunshine State. Cops, cults, cryonics, corruption,conspiracy, carnage: PAGAN MOON packs mystery, suspense, policeprocedural and the supernatural into one tough punch." Douglas E. Winter, award winning editor, author, RUN (Knopf)

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

She wasn't the first corpse I'd seen, but her murder would haunt me. A naked female floated face down in the West Palm Canal, my first dead civilian. "Was checkin' the area for poachers," the game warden said, his khaki shirt pitted from the heavy heat. "Saw the buzzards hoverin'." Responding to dispatch's call, I'd seen them, too. Orbiting lazily against a cloudy sky, the winged scavengers eyed their target. We were out in the Glades, twenty miles from nowhere, and the tight, silent air signaled rain. Staring down at her from the embankment, I said, "You have something we can pull her in with?" "Got a boat hook over here," the warden said, and sauntered over to his green four by four. Arms outstretched, she floated in the murky water, auburn hair glistening in the morning sunlight. Remember details. They had drilled that into me at the academy. No signs of violence on her backside, she had petite hips, no moles, tattoos, or birth marks. She couldn't have been there long. The scavengers had yet to have their way with her. "Here y'are..." The warden handed me an eight-foot pole, a metal gaff on its end. I stared at him. My grizzled companion spit a brown stain into the sandy soil and shrugged. "S'your job, ain't it?" he said with a tobacco-stained grin. "Guess so." I turned and stretched out the pole. Her body was too far away. "Hold on to me," I said, edging my foot over the embankment. The warden grasped my left arm, while I reached out with my right, extending the gaff. The long shaft wavered, dancing about awkwardly. It caught her armpit, and I gave a gentle tug. Her body bobbed like a cork, and I nudged it toward me, hoping not to tear flesh. The corpse had a ripeness like the dead I'd seen in combat. A familiar sensation gripped me, my gut churning, a tightness in my throat. Her limp arm drifted amidst the shoreline reeds. "Going to need some help," I said. "Lucky no gators got her yet. All we'd've found is pieces." "Don't remind me." Grabbing one of her arms, my leg sank knee deep into the muddy bank. The warden reached down and grabbed her other arm. "Easy now. Let's get her up here," I said. "Little thing, ain't she?" he said. "Damned if I know what's goin' on around here." "Huh?""Found another one `bout eighteen months ago out near Belle Glade," the warden said. "In the canal, too. Young, like this one." I was just a rookie, too green to have heard about it. "Got devil worshippers out here," he said. "Find strange things sometimes. Animal carcasses, circles drawn in the ground. Might be bored cuttin' up critters" I gave him a long look as we dragged the body up the bank, laid her face down amidst the sawgrass, and gently stretched out her slender arms. "Don't touch a thing," I said. "Got to make sure homicide and the crime lab are on their way." "I know the drill, sonny." I sprinted back to my cruiser feeling a sick sense of thrill that I'd finally been confronted with real police work. Dispatch reported a crew on its way, followed second later by, "Sierra sixteen, over." "Sierra sixteen, go," I said into the mike. "Keep the crime scene virgin as your sister. Ten-four, sierra sixteen?" Detectives were breaking in, not wanting a rookie to screw things up. "Ten-four," I said, cut the transmission, and jogged back. The warden swung his sad eyes from the girl to me. "Wonder if she's like the last one?" "What about the last one?" I asked. "Did some nasty things to that poor 'lil gal. Don't care to see that again." "Nasty things?" "Heart torn out. Like some black magic thing." My insides shuddered. "Better not touch her until the detectives get here." "Fine by me." My eyes drifted to the body at our feet. I can't say why I didn't notice right away. Perhaps in the shock of the moment, my inexperience had blanked out my senses. But much as I tried to maintain my cool, her lifeless form suddenly drew me in. My sense of denial fought what I saw, but what was becoming too obvious forced me to my knees. If I simply looked at the ears, I would know. My hand trembled, then moved hesitantly toward the damp, auburn hair. Carefully, I drew back a thick strand. I saw pierced ears, but no angel earring. Yet, I'd kissed a tiny ear like the one I was staring at. I brushed her hair away from her face and pulled green slime from a tender cheek. My grief shattered the silence.

About the Author

Born in the Greater Chicago Area, Mr. Davis graduated from Millikin University in 1969.  Commissioned as an officer in the U.S. Marine Corps, he served on active duty from 1969 to 1972 and was discharged a captain.  His early civilian career has involved sales, human resources and advertising. He recently left the casino industry in which he worked for nearly twenty years. Florida, where he lived for a number of years, is the setting for the Mike Gage Thrillers. He and his wife currently live in Indiana.  Pagan Moon is the first of three Mike Gage thrillers. Black Karma was released in 2013 and The Shooting in late 2015.

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