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[j-pratt-official]

What a way to announce that we have a new book on the way!

The Decay will be available Dec 2020!

Read a preview here on Ao3.

Just a simple sketch of a Kinn a vampire species. They aren’t the typical bloodsucker and are actually a parasite that forms a symbiotic relationship with their host.

Based on this original fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024765/chapters/60601411

[j-pratt-official]

I'm not sure if you would be interested but one of my favourite authors released a book with a gender fluid main character and a trans secondary character (who is absolutely adorable). It's an urban fantasy book about demons and hunters feat. a lot of puppies. So if anyone is interested, the book is Bonds by J H Pratt.

OKAY BUT THIS SOUNDS AWESOME

i cant find a link to it though so if anyone knows where you can buy/read it let me know!

[j-pratt-official]

We would also like to take the time to thank @leavenopathuntaken for the wonderful cover art and look forward to possibly working again with her in the future.  

We are delighted to announce that Book 1 of the Family Matter’s trilogy, Bonds, was finished early and is now available for purchase on Amazon!

Once an orphan, now a grown man, all Angelo Luciano wanted to do was provide a better life for him and his adopted baby brother Jasper. Until a chance encounter with a hunter shattered the quiet life he had built for his family. With them came troubles and amidst that emerged a shadow from his past dredging up the loss that orphaned the brothers. In a world steeped in demons and hunters, the boundaries between friend and foe are blurred. 

This is a story of diverse characters from varying cultures, religions and sexuality come together to face one glaring issue in their society that has gone unnoticed by centuries of ignorance and privilege. 

[j-pratt-official]

We are delighted to announce that Book 1 of the Family Matter’s trilogy, Bonds, was finished early and is now available for purchase on Amazon!

Once an orphan, now a grown man, all Angelo Luciano wanted to do was provide a better life for him and his adopted baby brother Jasper. Until a chance encounter with a hunter shattered the quiet life he had built for his family. With them came troubles and amidst that emerged a shadow from his past dredging up the loss that orphaned the brothers. In a world steeped in demons and hunters, the boundaries between friend and foe are blurred. 

This is a story of diverse characters from varying cultures, religions and sexuality come together to face one glaring issue in their society that has gone unnoticed by centuries of ignorance and privilege. 

[j-pratt-official]

Coming October 2019 ~ Many thanks to @leavenopathuntaken for the wonderful cover art. 

[j-pratt-official]

Excerpt from Ch.7; Book 1, Bonds.

Coyote gave an incredulous look, glancing towards Thom who patted him on the shoulder in solidarity. “Aren’t you supposed to be hiding from Malik?” The question made Coyote’s head snap around to glance towards the open vault. The life burning back across his features in a wicked toothy smile that just screamed trouble. 

“Forgot my toque the other day. Moe says it was here last.” He gestured to one of the chattering wisps that hovered on the edge of his ear. Its little light flickering in excitement while the man climbed over the receptionist desk and dropped down to kneel. His eyes already searching the shelves for his lost beanie. 

“I’m hopin the old lizard didn’t burn it in his fury.” The entire Compound knew the reputation of their resident librarian and his immortal moniker. When he started working for the Order as a hunter in his early years, he quickly gained the name Dragon of the East after he burned an entire nest of demons and cultists to ash. It was supposedly accidental but in Malik’s defense, they were summoning one of the Seven Princes of Hell and that would have spelled all kinds of trouble for the mortal world. It also explained his fancy for fire and setting things ablaze, especially things that annoy him. Which didn’t bode well for Coyote in the slightest.

With a triumphant noise, his head popped back up over the counter with a bright pink beanie capped over his head with an obnoxiously large pom pom on the very top with silver tinsel woven throughout it. Two more hung down in braided cords on either side pulling the flaps over his ears. He gave Thom a goofy smirk before bouncing back up onto the balls of his feet and honing in on Malik’s repair kit. He paused long enough to dig a small white bottle from his pocket, the size of his palm with a little capped tip and a label for oil on the exterior. It looked like the same brand that Malik uses to repair and maintain his prosthetic. He popped open the cap and gave it a test squeeze, the scent of maple wafting on the open air towards Thom who frowned.

“You’re just asking to die now.” 

He watched as Coyote opened the tool kit and replaced Malik’s oil with the bottle filled with maple syrup, a wide grin splitting his handsome features. 

“Only if he catches me.” He chuckled, sliding his rear across the top of the desk and landing beside Thom. One of his wisps chirruped in his ears with alarm, causing the older man to drop down in a crouch, ducking behind the desk, body pressed flush against the wood as the sound of squeaky springs approached the vault entrance. Abraham and Malik were talking back and forth in their native tongue until Malik paused in the doorway of the vault. His eyes honing in on the little pink pom pom sprouting up like a red flag warning on the other side of his desk. Giving Abraham a dismissive wave, the hunter joined Thom as they slowly backed away towards the double doors. 

“Coyote! How nice of you to come visit.” The words were sickly sweet as the canadian went stone still. Eenie hovered above his head making little whining noises and blinking at Malik. The sounds resembling a whimpering dog when the librarian gave a devilish smile that could chill even a demon to its core. “I hope you’ve come to scrub every last inch of this library.”

Knowing his ruse wasn’t going to work, Coyote popped back up onto his feet and turned to face the man. “Sorry Malili but I have a meeting with Papa Donny later. Can’t be late n’all.” 

As he turned around to trail after Thom and Abraham who were making a hasty escape, Malik’s fingers hooked the back of his shirt and wrenched the man back over the desk as he purred into his ear.

 “You better start working on your apology to him then cause you won’t be seeing him for a while.”

[j-pratt-official]

Excerpt from Ch.5; Book 1, Bonds.

Thom tapped his fingers on the steering wheel with his free hand, manoeuvring his jeep down the road towards the outer edge of the city where trees cropped up and rolling hills of greenery spread out around a quaint stonework church. Turning into the little parking lot, he noticed a fresh layer of red mulch spread around the flower beds nestled against the foundations of the church. The stonework glistened, able to see the white stones through the grime of weather and age. 

Putting the jeep in park, he tucked his purse strap on his shoulder and headed inside, heels clicking across the damp sidewalk into the entryway. The chime of the bells sounded high up in the steeple, a ghostly noise that announced his entry to those moving about the pews. He was greeted by the gruff form of a Canadian man, his voice hollering across the palpable silence of the pews. “Oy there Cupid!” Dark blue eyes honed in on him as four little white orbs darted circles around his head. One veered off to rustle up the dark locks of short shaggy hair as he scratched the light shaded scruff growing in along his jawline. Roughly in his mid thirties last time Thom checked, in the prime of a hunter’s years. 

Two other figures were stretched out across the pews, recovering from a long day of physical labor, sweat speckling their skin and hands stained red from mulch. A groan rumbling out of their chests, refusing to leave their places of comfort to greet the other scout. “Is that Isaac and Mariam?” Thom asked, leaning over the pew closest to him. 

The Canadian man barked laughter as he coaxed one of the wisps off of his shoulders letting it nestle in his palm. “Aye. Papa Donny has us working off our debts for last week’s stunt.” He sighed, brushing the mud off his faded blue jeans. A white t-shirt clung to his torso, though if it were from sweat or water, Thom couldn’t tell. It could honestly be anything knowing Coyote. The man was a mystery just as much as he was a lazy old clown but there was no better Hunter to have your back. Thom glanced up at the four wisps chasing circles around their owner, racing between his arms and under his leg where it was propped up against the side of the pew. 

“Hey, Coyote, you want another wisp? I’ve got a faulty one that can’t find a demon for shit.” Thom offered, reminded of Pwca’s foul the other night. As amusing as it was, mistakes like that could get Thom killed.

Thom didn’t hear the approaching footsteps but he certainly felt the thunk as a newspaper landed atop his head in a firm swat. Turning his head, he met the kindly old eyes of the Church’s head, Father Donovan. He looked ancient and grandfatherly, a sweet elder man that cared for his flock dearly. Greying hairs cropping around his head, tucked under a dark grey flat cap. His sun battered skin was leathery from age, hands calloused and worn from decades of hard work, back hunched with the companionship of hard labor. He was a thin wiry man, appearing frail as if the strongest spring gale will blow him away, drifting like leaves in a storm to high heaven. A lilting irish accent left his lips as he chastised the young hunter. 

“No abandoning your wisps Thomas.”

Thom cringed, glancing at the paper, yellowed with age and written in a form of arabic that no one in the order even knew how to read, except perhaps the chief librarian Malik Al-Haidar . It has been wielded by Father Donovan dutifully since he began working for the order back in the cretaceous period.

[j-pratt-official]

Excerpt from Ch.2; Book 1, Bonds.

Cutting the engine on his bike, Angelo climbed off, dropping the helmet into the side car and swatting at the orb as it buzzed energetically around him. 

“What the fuck are you?” He cursed, smacking at it again as it eluded his attempts. His tail slipping free of his sheathe as he leaped at it, pouncing into the air and swatting for it once more. This time he gave a triumphant noise before his hand passed right through it. Met only with the cold cloud of air where it occupied the space above his head. He bared his incisors in a sharp toothed growl, his amber orb blown wide in the pupil as he pounced again, this time darting after the orb as it dropped lower. Chasing it around like a feline on catnip after a laser, he was adamant to make the damn thing leave him alone. 

His activities seemed to catch the attention of a passerby, soft snickering ebbing into the quiet alley way. His head whipped around, amber eye drawn to a needle point as he inspected his surroundings for any signs of life. A single white fabric drooping down from the sparsely grown oak tree, still a young sprout compared to the behemoth mature trees growing high in the nearby park. Just tall enough for the young children in the complex to find amusement in scaling the thicker sturdy branches. Its leaves weren’t as plentiful yet, with the squint of his good eye, Angelo could make out the figure of a smaller figure hunched in the darkness of the boughs. It wasn’t until it dropped down skilfully from the branch, landing on his feet with ease and straightening up that he realised whose company he was keeping.

A more petite figure stood before him, considerably smaller in size and fair of features dressed in an old fashion ceremonial garb one might find in a museum or renaissance festival. The wool fabric was a deep green, resembling robes fitted around the pelvis and torso with leather breastplates and padding. A single bright white sash tied around his waist, the long fabric hanging down the back of the stranger’s form like a long flowing tail. Leather boots strung up tight around his feet and high along his calves, giving to a pair of white trousers. The layers of green fabric pooled over elegantly down his front, leather shoulder padding protected his neck and clavicle, the sleeves stretching down to his elbow, folded carefully at the bend, leaving an inch or so of skin before a pair of leather gloves would begin. Bright blonde hair tied up elegantly into a complicated as fuck braid closely bound into a bun at the end so not a strand fell free. Olive eyes directed on him, a firm set of the jaw was not lost in the humour the stranger accompanied. 

The stranger felt no qualms in voicing his amusement. “For a moment there, I could have sworn I’d stumbled across a stray cat. I should have brought some milk along with me.”

[j-pratt-official]

First peek at the final cover for the book.