Danger Delivered: Gilroy - Warlock of the West, Blackbird: Chapter 1: Danger Delivered

By Whit Bailey

It's 1875. America.

The frontier has been reached. The states have been settled. The country grows, and but something has infected it.

Dark Magic. Those it uses as vessels have hidden themselves in the shadows, building their numbers, orchestrating conspiracies. They wish to bring the new country under the arcane influence of ancient demons.

But every continent has its champions — mystical warriors that battle against the dark forces who wish to enslave them.

America has Gilroy.

An immigrant warlock, Eoin Gilroy travels across the plains, battling whatever hell spits at him — witches, sorcerers, cults, zombies, vampires, were-beasts and even the occasional demigod. He's outnumbered and usually outmatched —

But Gilroy's a stubborn bastard.



This is the first entry in the Danger Delivered cliffhanger series. The first set of stories in this series feature Gilroy, Warlock of the West. This Gilroy adventure is titled Blackbird.

Each book in the series is a short read — from 3,000 to 5,000 words, and each ends on a cliffhanger, unless it's at the end of the current adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Action Saturday
• Release date: Jun 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386739609

Book preview

Blackbird: Chapter 1

The Return of Algemoth

Arizona, 1875

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The painting on the wall looks like a blackbird on fire. Smeared black strokes form the violent shape of a carrion bird sent to hell, all its rage and insanity burning from its wings. Its artist had outlined the whole mess in red.

Did you paint that, Bumpy? Gilroy asks.

There’s no answer.

Eoin Gilroy stares at the painting and remembers the Scottish cave where, as a child, he first saw that image. It has since surfaced in his nightmares, always a harbinger to pain and death. And here it is now, emblazoned on the wall before him as his white mane is speckled with the blood from the gunshot wound in his shoulder. Whoever the assassins are, they missed their kill shot.

Bumpy, I’m talking to you, Gilroy says. Lifting his six-shooter with his good arm, he looks down the barrel at the pudgy man cowering in the shadows across the room.

No, I didn’t paint it! I can’t paint! Bumpy cries. "Don’t you hear ‘em