Sin City Mystic
Adam Steel is desperate. Born a Giant Irish Wolfhound with the ability to become human, he only wants to lead a normal life with the woman he loves. But the love of his life, Dixie Mulholland, is cursed to live as a canine.
Dixie is resigned to her fate, which means a drastically reduced lifespan. Adam is determined to remove her curse, no matter the cost—and everything in Vegas comes at a cost. In his quest for a cure, Adam ignites a war between good and evil, threatening to open the gates of Hell and unleash The Devil himself.
With the help of very special friends, Adam and Dixie frantically race against time to save the city from evil’s reign. In the end, Adam questions his ability to lead the life he craves as he uncovers the heinous truth buried below Sin City.
It’s a dark place, not haunted house dark, but so dim, objects are not easily defined; they have no form, no weight, no purpose, as if my mind is trying to recall what it needs in order to survive. A huge, empty void will not do.
I can’t even begin to understand what happened to me. One minute, I’m eating a sugary glazed treat in The Mystic’s chambers, and the next I’m here (wherever here is), face down on the ground.
I feel the area around me, trying to establish some bearings. A bumpy surface like cobblestones, uneven and rough, meets my touch. What I think is the leg of a chair gives me something to hold onto. I grip the leg with one hand, and use it to help me stand, then ease back and sit down before I fall. My head pounds, and I’m dizzy. It doesn’t help having nothing to focus on. I’m lost in this vacant shadow world.
“Dixie.” The word runs away from me in the form of an echo. Despite the constant throbbing in my head, I say her name again and again.
I thought I was alone, but a voice shouts back, spreading shivers over my skin. “It’s no use. I’m so fucked, no one is coming to save me, are they? I thought you were here to rescue me…ha. It sounds like you can’t even help yourself. Why are you yelling for Dixie? Do you mean Dixie Mulholland? You do, don’t you?”
The darkness forces my mind to invent an image of the owner of this voice: an older man, cowering, lost and afraid. As a Giant Irish Wolfhound, I have keen eyesight, but as a human, my eyes are no better nor worse than this stranger. Still, I can now just make out his silhouette standing a few feet away. “Yes, Dixie Mulholland. How do you know her?”
“Her and I go way back,” the man says. “And you?”
I don’t want to answer his question until I get a handle on who he is and how he knows Dixie. So I ask some questions of my own. “Who are you? How did you get here?”
“I have no idea. One minute I was talking to The Mystic, and the next, I was in this cave. Uh, this is a cave, isn’t it?”
I decide he’s being honest, because the fear in his voice rings true to me. I find truth and fear go hand in hand more often than not, and so I relax my guard. “My name is Adam Steel.”