Introducing Trisha, Angel Apprentice

I would like to introduce you to one of my favorite characters in The Courier series. Trisha is a fun and spunky angel apprentice who tries to keep Barry in line, although it’s a constant challenge for her.

I’ve been having the amazing RL Treadway draw the book covers and characters in the series, so I’d also like to thank her for doing such an amazing job, bringing Trisha to life. Please drop by her website and Facebook page to check out her amazing work:

Below is a very short introduction to Trisha. This is her second meeting with Barry and first intervention to steer him on the right path. Of course, she’s not always as successful with him as she’d like. I did cut off much of this scene due to the spoilers, so I hope you’re intrigued enough to hop on over to Amazon to purchase Call for Obstruction. It’s also available on KindleUnlimited.

Just south of Fort Carson, there’s a white Mustang parked in the median. A woman wearing a white top and miniskirt stands beside it. Her legs stretch up to her neck, just the way I like them. She waves her arms above her head like she wants me to stop. By now I know better than to trust any clusters of white. I pass her by.

Four miles south, it’s deja vu: white Mustang, white skirt, shapely legs. She waves at me again.

For about ten seconds, I consider pulling over to defect like all the drivers who’ve “turned traitor,” as Vern would say. Then I remember what’s in the back of the truck and worry I might not qualify for employment as a white warrior with the angel’s apprentices.

I speed up.

Not ten minutes later, no coincidence, the same scene greets me up ahead. This time she stands spread-eagled in the middle of the highway, waving her arms above her head. I veer left and press the gas pedal to the floor. Her right arm winds up like an ace pitcher and throws a wide curve ball. In mid-air, the ball inflates into a giant white sphere that soars at the truck.

“Margery,” I call out.

No answer from the demon intercom.

My ass cheeks clench and my grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Oh…shit!” The sphere hits the windshield and bursts like a water balloon. White liquid splatters across the glass and blocks the view. I slam on the brake, swerve left, and skid to a stop in the median.

Still unfamiliar with the truck, I nervously fiddle with the knobs until the wiper blades switch on, but the covering is as dry as cement. Not even the wiper fluid will remove it.

What now? A voice in my head says, run, but if I stick even my head out the window, who knows what she’ll throw at me next? But if I don’t get this truck to Trinidad, Margery will take it out on Nina.

The side view mirror reflects the girl in white. She approaches on six-inch heels as if she’s an Olympic sprinter.

When I reach for the door handle, ready to jump out and give her a piece of my mind, the door opens by itself. Great, another magician. And I’m pretty sure this one’s even less on my side than Margery.

“Come on out,” she says.

Afraid of what she might do next, I jump to the pavement and glare at a familiar face. “You.”

Trisha, the girl from the coffee shop, smiles and bounces. She brushes brown hair out of her mouth and away from her face. “Hi, Barry.”

I’d like to tell her I’d recognize her tits anywhere, but instead I manage, “What the hell did you throw at the windshield? You could have killed me.”

She rolls her big brown eyes. “Not likely.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask, although there’s no question that she works for the heavenly forces.

“Are you kidding? I know what you’re hauling in there.” She cocks her head and points at the back end of the truck. “Man, have you made some poor choices over the last few days.”

“No shit,” I mumble. “What are you? One of those white warriors?”

“Do I look like the sort of idiot who would sign one of Margery’s contracts?” she says. “Try angel’s apprentice. The warriors work for me.”

“Really?” My eyes widen. “So that’s why Margery burned me with her cigarettes when I mentioned your name.”

Her thick lips turn up a grin that might be more evil than Margery’s. “After a millennium, it’s good to know I still get under her skin.”

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