New Release -- Punished: Navajo Witches by Jackson Lowry

Vincent Bayonne has gone from wealthy Louisiana plantation owner to penniless drunk in a very short time. But that’s not all. William Sherman, the ex-slave who put the torch to Bayonne’s beloved plantation, Dark Oaks, has done the unspeakable. Sherman, a voodoo priest, has placed a curse on Bayonne and made him one of the undead—living, but not truly alive.

The elusive Dr. Glencannon is the only man who can stave off the sense-dulling effects of the curse with his elixir—but Bayonne is always one step behind him. A young Navajo boy tells Bayonne his uncle, Begay, can help—but for a price—killing the skinwalker that has been terrorizing the Navajo people.

Though Bayonne resents having to hunt the supernatural shapeshifter, there is no choice for him. For Begay, true to his word, concocts a potion that holds the zombie traits at bay and allows Bayonne to do what he must do—including hunting the skinwalker.

As Bayonne stalks the skinwalker, he makes a surprising discovery. Will he be able to kill the beast? And can he make it back to New Orleans in time to meet the Queen of the Cape when William Sherman comes ashore?

EXCERPT

     He had been thrust into a furnace. Vincent Bayonne stirred sluggishly as he forced himself to get his face out of the alkali dust. He stayed on hands and knees, unable to go further. It slowly occurred to him that he hadn't been dumped into a furnace. He was in a blacksmith's forge. The heat blistered his back, but the dull thudding inside his head matched the even strokes of a smithy hammering out a horseshoe fresh and red-glowing from the coals.

     Choking, he spat. Or he tried to. His mouth was too dry to get the grit out. Memory of waking in a coffin with his mouth sewn shut after being filled with salt sent a surge through him that brought him upright onto his knees.

     "Damn you, William Sherman."  He cursed the man who had put the voodoo curse on him. As he turned his face upward, he realized he was in another type of grave. This one stretched for barren miles in all directions. From the angle of the sun, he had another couple hours of the searing heat to endure.