What comes after life? Jayden Schroeder is about to find out. At the end of the road of despair, she ends it all, and finds out that living might not have been so bad. Thrust into a strange and disparate world, Jayden joins a team of warriors from all places and time. Together they battle demons to save the souls of the living, all the while on the run from the end of all things - The Judgment.
Will she fight for a second chance to spare those she loves? Or surrender?
Dark Night of the Soul is a fantastical journey, both literally and figuratively for Jayden’s soul. If you are looking for a quick, quirky read with vivid characters and scenery, a touch of dark humor, and healthy dose of romance, look no further.
Excerpt
My senses snapped back with sharp clarity. I laid on my back staring at dappled sunlight through a canopy of green leaves. My fingers curled around the soft dirt and twigs beneath them. I was afraid to move, unsure of where I was or what had happened. Hadn’t I just killed myself?
I turned my head enough to see forest to my right. The same on the left. I chanced sitting up a bit and propped myself up on elbows. Forest in front. My gaze fell to my legs.
“What the hell?”
I wore camo. Ugh. But I wasn’t fat. I looked at my hands. They seemed older. My boobs! They were perfect, though covered in more khaki and brown camouflage. I pulled a strand of hair in front of me. Blonde. Now my heart was pumping.
I scurried to my feet trying to take in more of myself and my surroundings. I wore full military garb with a hand gun strapped to my hip. A really big gun lay on the ground next to where I woke up at the edge of a camp with a fire and tents, and everything.
And me. From what I could see, my body looked perfect, just like Becky Greenwood, the cheer captain. I bet my face was too. I bet I even had blue eyes. I must be in heaven. But why camo?
“Damn it! Who ordered the newbie?”
I spun to face the gruff male voice behind me. There at the edge of the camp stood a group of five people that my mind struggled to assimilate. A knight in shining armor, a female samurai, and another man dressed in a gold foil jumpsuit stared at me.
The man upfront, who had spoken, wore camo pants like mine and a black shirt. A woman next to him eyed me. She looked like a druid or monk and carried a staff. In a thick Irish accent she snarled.
“Welcome ta hell, brat.”
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