The Shaman of Kupa Piti (Shaman’s Law #1) by A. Nybo
Published July 30th 2019 by DSP Publications
Cover Art: Kanaxa
A.Nybo is on tour for the new exciting release The Shaman of Kupa Piti (Shaman’s Law #1) and has brought a excerpt for all our readers. Check it out below and how to contact the author as well. It’s a story I’m happily recommending as well.
When an international case involving a series of ritual murders lands in his lap, strait-laced and logical Agent Leon Armstrong is going to need some help.
Leon follows the trail to the opal-mining town of Coober Pedy, Australia, where he gets tangled up with the wild Russian mystic Sergei Menshikov. Despite his commitment to rationality, Leon discovers he isn’t immune to the way of the spirits, no matter how much he’d like to think so. When Sergei tells him he treads a predestined path, Leon’s world turns upside down.
Leon’s experiences in Coober Pedy will change his life forever, but can he hold out against Sergei and the spirits—who Sergei claims have chosen them for each other?
The Shaman of Kupa Piti.
Setup: Australian Federal Police agent Leon Armstrong enters Soda Bob’s pub to speak with the witness, Sergei Menshikov. The following is one of Leon’s ongoing lessons of the way of life in the mining town of Coober Pedy.
Someone yelled “Doris!” and every patron turned to look at the door and, with broad grins, began chanting “Dor-is, Dor-is, Dor-is.” There were a few heckles as well, with one man yelling out to ask whether there was a Doris Day available for some extracurricular activity.
Not understanding the jibe, Leon largely ignored it, but knowing it was a taunt of some sort, he smiled and gave a little nod as though bowing to his audience.
Glancing towards the bar, Leon met Sergei’s eyes. Sergei had twisted on his bar stool to watch their advance, a teasing eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips. He turned back towards the bar.
When Charlie went to the left of Sergei and leaned on the bar, instead of moving to the other side of Charlie and using the big man as a buffer, Leon slipped in between the two. He wasn’t sure why.
The barman was about to speak when Sergei introduced them. Leon supposed it didn’t take a genius to guess they were here to see him.
“Soda Bob, you know local Doris, and this is federal Doris.” Sergei grinned.
“Doris?” Leon asked.
Soda Bob chuckled. “Did you ever watch A Country Practice?”
Leon gave it a moment’s thought and realised the pig in the TV show was named Doris. He turned to Sergei. “I guess that makes you Rasputin.”
Soda Bob’s brow drew down. “Wasn’t Rasputin mad?” he asked one of the patrons sitting to Sergei’s right.
“Mad as a meat axe,” the man with blinding white teeth confirmed.
Coober Pedy was relatively isolated, but was their knowledge of the outer world really that restricted? “He was a mad monk,” Leon offered.
The white-toothed man’s eyebrows shot up. “A monk? I didn’t know that.”
Leon glanced at Sergei who, seemingly ignoring the conversation, stared straight ahead, one hand loosely holding the stubby on the bar before him, the other grooming his beard.
“Nah, he wasn’t a monk.” The redhead who spoke had so many freckles they’d started joining up like overlaid dot-to-dot pages. He added uncertainly, “I don’t think.”
“I don’t know anything about him being a monk,” said Soda Bob, “but whoever gave Rasputin his blasting ticket should’ve been hauled over a bed of shit and left in the shade for the flies.”
His blasting ticket? What the fuck?
At that moment, Sergei turned and looked directly into Leon’s eyes, a smug eyebrow raised and a smile twitching on his lips as if to say, “Well, that went well for you, didn’t it?”
Given he was not in the habit of blushing, when the heat rushed to Leon’s face, it was like lava flowing through the blood vessels in his cheeks. Sergei’s hazel eyes pinned him to the spot like a bug to a board. Leon couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Sergei blinked, and the self-satisfied expression lightened to a teasing and playful gaze that was more captivating than the previous look had been paralysing.
Sergei turned his head away, but his eyes remained playfully on Leon until he was gazing out of their corners from beneath hooded lids. With another blink he looked ahead again.
“Yeah,” said White Teeth. “Tiny was lucky he wasn’t in his pit that day.”
Leon dragged his eyes from Sergei. What were they talking about? Oh yeah, Rasputin and his blasting ticket. Obviously the conversation had gotten away from him completely.
“The man was a menace with explosives,” Soda Bob assured Leon. “He blew up Norman’s washing machine.” He laughed. “It was said that if you wanted a pig to fly, you just had to leave it with Rasputin. He sent most things around him sky high sooner or later.”
Leon assumed Sergei’s soft chuckle was triggered by Soda Bob’s seemingly unintended pig pun.
“Lesson learned,” said Leon, acknowledging that he was the one receiving the education. “Rasputin was a crappy powder monkey.”
About the Author
A. Nybo has tried conventional methods (a psych degree and a GC in Forensic Mental Health) but far prefers the less conventional, such as the occasional barbecue in the rain, four-hundred-kilometre drives at 1:00 a.m. for chocolate, and multiple emergency naps in any given twenty-four-hour period. Western Australian born, she has been spotted on the other side of the planet several times—usually by mosquitoes. She’s also discovered Amazonian mosquitoes love her just as much as they do in her home state.
Twitter/ https://twitter.com/anybo5 /@anybo5
DSP Publications / https://www.dsppublications.com/authors/a-nybo-108 / A. Nybo
Dreamspinner Press / https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/authors/a-nybo-1078