An excerpt from the book

The dark saloon was a blessed relief. He needed to think. Being midday few patrons were inside and that suited Daniel. A musty, stale smell lingered from last night's cigars and spilled beer. The floor was littered with shredded tobacco spilling from thin white paper sleeves. A few were flattened, marring the wooden planks with black burn marks. Noticing that chairs were scattered and lay upended, Daniel shoved one aside to step toward the bar.

"I need something cool," he said to the bartender.

"Tapped a homemade brew this morning. Will that suit you?"

"Fine."

Before sipping the beer, he lifted the mug to his forehead, hoping the chill would stop the pounding in his head. Froth spilled onto the stained counter wetting the sleeves of his shirt. Finding no relief, he sat slump-shouldered staring into the amber liquid as if waiting for some revelation.

From a dark corner of the saloon emerged a figure, the way a heavy fog mysteriously floats in from the forest. It comes from nowhere and moves slowly with an aura of evil. Daniel saw the man approaching as he glanced into the mirror hanging over the bar. The reflection showed a form that was oddly familiar. The very scent of the man, and the swaggering walk...where had he seen it before? The sound of clinking boots neared and Daniel took a deep breath sensing trouble. He didn't want to socialize. He wanted solitude. With head bent, he avoided eye contact, and checked the knife that hung from his belt.

A large disfigured hand slapped the bar with a whap, causing Daniel's stomach to jerk. The hand was well manicured, certainly not belonging to one who worked the land. From the cuticle grew thick nails, yellowed, yet deliberately shaped. The fourth fingernail was longer than the others and fashioned to a sharp point, like a spear.

A vile hissing sound came forth causing the hairs to stand on Daniel's neck. He tried to conceal a shudder and checked himself in the mirror.

"Why did you have to come here?"

Turning from his perch, Daniel confronted the enemy. "Sorry now that I did."

The man lifted his foot to rest on the brass railing and leaned casually onto the bar. Pulling a wad of thin tissues from his shirt pocket, he licked the back of his thumb separating one from the pack. He inverted the tobacco pouch emptying tiny brown flakes onto the paper and quickly rolled it in cigarette fashion. The strong sulphur smell from the match stung Daniel's nostrils, but he withheld any reaction.

The man inhaled deeply from the cigarette, then leaned closer and blew smoke in Daniel's face. Picking his teeth with the pointed nail, he extracted a piece of stringy beef then sucked the morsel back into his mouth. "I've hated you with a passion since the first day I met you." Smacking and puckering his lips he spit the wad across the floor. "I believe it's my God-given assignment to take you from this earth and place you in hell where you belong."