Christian Fiction Friday: July 10th

Welcome to this week’s edition of Christian Fiction Friday brought to you by me and my lovely and talented co-host, Alana Terry! This is a chance for Christian authors to post short snippets from their works in progress! Easy and fun!

This week, I just typed “the end” on Valor’s Vigil, book 8 in my Virtues and Valor series. Here is a snippet from Chapter 3:

Switching back to English she said, “What do I call you, lad?”

“Call him Valor,” Praetorian said from over her shoulder. “He needs to be patched up and back at his duty station tomorrow or else things are likely to go very, very badly for our little operation here.”

All he could think about was the suspicions of Kapitan Beck and Marie’s name on that piece of paper. He had to leave. While Mercy lifted his shirt and pushed against the wound, he panted, “I can’t stay here.”

The side of her mouth lifted in a half-amused look. “Well, Valor, I’m afraid that’s not necessarily up to me at the moment.”

She prodded the wound on his stomach and shifted to feel underneath him. He felt his vision suddenly tunnel as if black blinders were closing in from the sides. “I’m not seeing where the bullet came out. That means you’re holding onto it somewhere. Stubborn, really. I’m going to have to cut on you a bit.”

Nausea swirled and his throat tried to close with fear. “Do what you need to.”

She gripped his bloody hand with her own. He found the strength in her grip comforting. “Right this moment, you probably think you can’t hurt much worse. Sadly, you’re mistaken. I c’n give ya something if you like.”

“Can it wait?” Praetorian asked as he walked to the foot of the bed. “He needs to talk.” Wait? Talk? Suddenly the mission came back into focus. “Tell me what you learned.”

“It w-w-was a s-s-set-t-t-up,” Leo stammered, tasting blood in his mouth. He felt his fingers spasm around the camera he clutched and tried to open his hand, but his muscles would not obey his mind. “They w-w-wanted to lure you i-i-n and k-k-kill you. C-c-c-ripple the Res-is-stance.”

“Who? Did you identify them?”

“Jäger. Heinrich.” He closed his eyes and felt the world start to tilt when he remembered the mission. He opened his eyes again. “Two more. We never saw them go in.”

“Matthew said you went down to the cabin. What did you see?”

“P-p-ictures,” Leo whispered. His hand finally relinquished its grip and Praetorian saw the camera.

“Good lad,” he said, taking it from his hand. “We’ll get this developed and see what we can see.” He frowned and leaned forward. “How compromised is your cover?”

Leo shook his head. “Not at all. They never saw me.” As Mercy pushed his hands aside while she cut open his shirt, he help up his hands, showing his bloody palms. “They know they hit me.”

Mercy began praying out loud, a Scottish prayer that sounded as if from rote. Praetorian put a hand on his booted foot. “Who knows of you?”

He knew he meant Black Orechestra. Many knew of his existence in a vague sense, but had no idea exactly who the legendary Valor may be. “No one.”

Mercy said, “Amen.” She picked up a syringe. “That’s all boys. You can talk in a few hours.” He barely felt the prick in the muscle of his arm, but almost immediately felt the welcoming relief of numbness and blackness wash over him.

Now it’s your turn! Just link your Christian Fiction Friday! Here are the rules:

1. Christian Fiction Friday is a blog hop where authors post short (400-ish words or  less) snippets from their current works in progress (not published pieces).

2. Keep it PG-13 or lower. No swearing, no sex scenes. If you have a particularly violent scene or deal with a heavy or controversial subject matter, please include a disclaimer at the beginning of your post.


1. Visit at least some of the other Christian Fiction Friday authors each week and comment on their blogs.

2. Don’t offer critiques unless the author specifically asks for it in his or her post.

3. Please include this blurb at the end of your weekly post:

Christian Fiction Friday is a weekly blog hop where authors post snippets from their current Works in Progress. It is hosted by Alana Terry and Hallee Bridgeman.

I’m so grateful for your visit, today.
You would bless me if you added me to your Subscribe via any Reader feed reader or subscribed Subscribe via Email via email.
You can also become a fan on Become a Facebook Fan Facebook or follow me on Follow me on Twitter Twitter. I would love to see more of you!


Skip to comment form

  1. Congrats on finishing the eighth book of your series. (Can I be a little green about that? I’m struggling with book #2 in mine 🙂 ) Compelling scene, here. Well done.

    1. Thank you!

  2. from my novel, Clara Bess:

    Rose was disconsolate. She had but a handful of kisses to remember him by, and his tender and fervent embrace, his calm and soothing voice. His enthusiasm at her music, and his presence at her every recital.
    And now he was gone.
    At sixteen, she was not ignorant of war, but the cloak of invincible youth wrapped her securely and she knew Silas would come home to her; she was proud of her soldier.
    Rose stood with Sam and Rebekah and Fanny, and their parents, as Silas boarded the train to Boston. She was so proud of him in his uniform, the steel hat, the ankle boots, the bayonet sheathed in its scabbard. The neatly squared haversack and all the pouches for ammo.
    His family all said their fare-thee-wells, and stepped inside the depot to give Silas a moment alone with Rose. He pulled her close and she caressed his khaki uniform, fingered the tags suspended on a leather cord, leaned in to kiss him.
    “I’ll be back, my Sweet,” he whispered in her ear. “Then we’ll marry, I promise.”
    “I love you Silas.” It was the first time Rose had spoken the words to him; she was yet sixteen.
    “And I love you, Rosie.” With that, he kissed her urgently and passionately.
    The train whistle blew.
    Still Rose and Silas lingered in their embrace. Steam shot over them in the early spring air dissipating into the gray sky.
    Caught in the jostle of other soldiers in the same plight, Silas climbed the first step into the interior of the train, Rose’s fingers still entwined in his. The sound of chugging, and the barest movement – the train was in motion. Rose clung to Silas’s fingers as long as she could, moving along with the car. When she could no longer keep pace, she turned, tears streaming down her face. He’ll be back. I know he will.
    When she turned, she made out the last of his image in one of the windows before he was whisked from her sight.

    Christian Fiction Friday is a weekly blog hop where authors post snippets from their current Works in Progress. It is hosted by Alana Terry and Hallee Bridgeman.
    halleeLOGOspinefinal – See more at:

    1. What a beautiful snippet!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.