One of the projects I have been working on is a mini-series centred around fan-favorite Tyrel Hanson. Years as an Angel, Viking, Demon Hunter, and Private Investigator has left Tyrel with a lot of darkness to face, both within himself and out in the world. As he returns to hunting the paranormal and operating his P.I. business, Tyrel and side-kick Steven face the challenges that come with the supernatural and the everyday.
Here is a raw, un-edited Chapter from the new series.
The prairies are ripe with ghost stories, demons, and darkness. Maybe it’s the isolation. In a place where you can drive for a day and still be in the middle of nowhere, far away from civilization, fears can bubble up and get loud. That isolation also breeds a false sense of safety, like the internet’s illusion of anonymity. Both I’m well familiar with. It’s my job to chase those who get too cocky with their isolation and anonymity. I’m a P.I. after all. While I do take on the odd normal case – cheating partners, murders gone cold, missing persons – I mostly specialize.
I hunt down the paranormal and the demonic. The darker, the better.
At first, I did it for God. I was an Angel, administering justice in the name of Heaven, Seraphim Tyrryal. That was a long time ago. Then, circumstances changed. I left Heaven and became mortal.
It wasn’t a terrible life, at first. I was a Viking, Tyr the Translator. When I left Father and Mother, some of my Angelic gifts followed me. The ability to speak any language was one of them. I was a skilled warrior too. I met a woman. A fiery, strong, passionate faerie during one of my people’s raids. Madigan. I kept her safe from slavery and abuse, intending to let her go once it was safe. Funny thing though, I fell in love with her. She just happened to also fall for me. That’s when they get you, though. When you have something to lose.
A god meddled. There are a lot of decent ones out there, my favorites being the Crone and Chaos. They are older gods. Nearly forgotten. And don’t mind it either. Quieter life and all. But there are a few that are real brats – usually the young ones, but not always. A young Celtic god Nuada destroyed my life, cursed me to hunt again, taking my wife away from me. He promised to restore her if I used every mortal life I had to exterminate the creatures one of my brothers let loose. You might have heard of him. His name is Lucifer.
You see, the lazy bastard of a god decided he’d pass off his duties to me. Apparently, Nuada had heard of my skills as an Angel and figured he’d reap all the glory while I got my hands dirty. Well it worked. Mostly. A twist of fate saw Madigan reincarnated in the same time as I. I have my suspicions on who to thank for that. I had built up a demon army to take down Nuada, but circumstances changed, again. Madison (the current incarnation of Madigan) is safely working to save the world from mortal destruction. She’s an Ecologist. And she’s mine again.
Now, I get to do this because I want to. It keeps me occupied while Madison is away for months on research projects or for work. Mostly, it keeps me from getting bored.
Where I am headed is only a few hours from Calgary, but it seems a whole different world. I have to drive down almost a dozen bridges to get there. The landscape ripples with coulees, fairy chimneys, and sand dunes. As I drive through the badlands, heading for my next case, Stephen is in the passenger seat vibrating in anticipation. I tried to tell him it’s a lowkey job. He doesn’t seem to care. I think he’s just happy to get out of the office for a bit.