Diary of the writer on the run poster

Friend or Foe

A gloved fist flew at my face.

I braced myself.

A force ripped the guy away. He flew back, open-mouthed in shock, and tumbled over the back garden.

The dark figure I’d caught sight of before was there among the four attackers. She kicked the gun from one. Punched a second guy flat.

A third stepped back and aimed his gun at the figure.

She swung her fist. An invisible force smacked the gun away. A volley of suppressed shots fired up into the night sky. She kicked in the air – and he landed on his back.

The first guy who had almost punched me scrambled to his feet and charged at her. She reached out, closed her fist and drew it in sharply. The guy flew forwards, his feet barely touching the ground – straight into her fist.

The other three attackers emerged from around the side of the house, two of them still coughing and spluttering.

She swung her arm and knocked the guns from their hands. They clattered over the floor.

They ran at her.

She moved to meet them.

I realised I was standing still and watching.

No one was paying attention to me anymore.

I took off, sprinted over the front garden, vaulted the garden wall and ran to the car. I dived in the driver’s seat and started the car. In the mirror I could see the figure – it was definitely a woman – beating the crap out of the seven attackers. Sometimes her kicks and punches landed directly. Sometimes she swung into thin air and the force of it struck her victim anyway.

I put my foot down. The car took off with a screech of tyres.

I had a flashback – being pulled out of a van by an invisible force.

She had done the same thing to the guy who had almost punched me. It had to be the same person. Surely two people couldn’t do that. But then, how would I know?

I had the route set in my mind. I wasn’t going to mess around with any changes now – best just to get there as quickly as possible. Sticking to main roads and motorways would reduce the chance of being attacked – as they were more likely to get caught doing it.

The roads were quiet. I drove as quickly as I dared, swinging and swerving around corners, speeding down main roads. Soon the Ford I was driving flew up the ramp and burst out onto the motorway.

I put my foot down and shot down the road. It was dimly lit and quiet. I passed only a couple of vehicles speeding in the opposite direction.

I was about to let out a sigh of relief – when my eyes caught something in the rear view mirror. It was a pair of headlights behind me. They were getting bigger. The car behind was catching me up.

But it wasn’t one car. There were three of them.

And they were chasing me down.

Henry Frey Twitter Giveaway

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas with this Twitter giveaway!

For the next two weeks (until 3rd December 8pm GMT), you have the chance to win a signed paperback copy of both titles in my Henry Frey Christmas fantasy adventure series. Just head on over to Twitter and follow the instructions on my pinned tweet.

This giveaway is only available on Twitter for UK entrants aged 18 and over.

See terms and conditions below. 

Twitter Giveaway Terms and Conditions

For your chance to win, follow the instructions in the pinned tweet of Jason Rybak’s Twitter account @Jason_Rybak

  1. Participants automatically agree to these terms and conditions.
  2. The giveaway on Twitter opens on 8pm (GMT) 19th November 2019 and closes at 8pm (GMT) 3rd December 2019.
  3. Only entrants from the UK with UK postage addresses who are 18 years and older are eligible.
  4. Only one Twitter entry per person.
  5. Anyone found using multiple accounts to enter will be ineligible.
  6. One winner will be randomly selected from eligible Twitter entries. The winner will be announced in a reply to a giveaway post on 4th December 2019.
  7. In order to claim the prize, the winner must notify us of their UK postal address within 1 week of the winning entry. If the winner fails to claim their prize within 1 week, another winner will be selected, but we will not be able to guarantee delivery before 25th December 2019.
  8. We will endeavour to deliver the prize to the winner within 30 working days from the date of the winning announcement.
  9. No cash equivalent or alternative prize will be given and the prize is non-transferable and non-exchangeable.
  10. This giveaway is in no way affiliated with or sponsored by Twitter and the winner will be providing information to someone besides Twitter.
Prize: 1 x paperback copy of Henry Frey and the Elf King signed by the author Jason Rybak
1 x paperbak copy of Henry Frey Versus the Dark Santa signed by author Jason Rybak
See synopses below

While you are here, check out the rest of my website www.jasonrybak.com or subscribe to my blog to keep up to date with Jason’s adventures in the Diary of the Writer on the Run series. 
Henry Frey and the Elf King Synopsis
Santa Claus is an elf. His real name is Klasodin. He lives in his Madjikal, snow-covered city of Alvahame with his elves.
Santa Claus is in trouble. Sabotaged by enemies inside and outside Alvahame, his Madjik is failing and gifts are going missing. Then, just days before Christmas, he disappears.
Henry Frey is the last human child with the Affinity for Madjik. Hunted by Santa’s enemies, he embarks on a dangerous journey by sleigh, sledge and snowboard to find Santa and restore his Madjik. If he fails, there will be no Christmas.
Henry Frey versus the Dark Santa Synopsis
Henry Frey Versus the Dark Santa book cover
Henry Frey smells danger when he spots an old enemy in a London toy store. Trouble is, Christmas is just days away, Britain is in chaos and he hasn’t heard from anyone in Alvahame in months. With no one else to help, Henry sets off to save Christmas alone.
A tall hooded figure in a sleigh led by eight reindeer lands in central London. But it’s not Santa Claus. And they’re not reindeer.
Henry finds himself out of his depth against a powerful enemy who has been planning his attack on Alvahame for years and knows a lot about him. With his every weakness exposed and his new family in danger, will Henry’s friends from Alvahame be there to help?
Diary of the writer on the run poster

Closing in

Staying low, I backed away.

Three more figures came into view. Eight in total – heading straight for the house.

I moved a little quicker.

Then came the itch in the back of my head – someone was watching me. There were more people out in the woods.

Leaves rustled behind me.

I wheeled around.

A running figure flew at me – and knocked me flat.

I landed on my back on cold, wet ground. Stars fizzed in my eyes. My head span.

Two figures stood over me. One of them leaned in a little closer.

“Is this him? Is he wearing…”

There was no time to think. I took my chance. I rolled, pulled the gun from the back of my jeans. I aimed and squeezed the trigger one, two, three, four times. Both figures collapsed to the ground. I didn’t check to see if they were still alive. I didn’t want to. The gun belonging to one of them lay on the grass. I scrambled to my feet, grabbed it and ran.

The itch in my head told me the others had seen me and were pounding through the woods after me. I veered left and right, weaving through the trees, avoiding running in a straight line in case they tried shooting at me.

Suddenly the trees and everything around me were swallowed by darkness. A blanket of pitch black filled my night vision goggles. I tore off the goggles. I could see it happening around me – the night was disappearing in a blackness that swallowed up the trees and everything else.

Multiple footsteps thundered over the ground after me.

A volley of suppressed automatic shots reeled off close by.

I hit the ground.

They were close. But there was no way they could see me. Their best chance of finding me was tripping over me.

Then the darkness started to clear.

Eight dark figures materialised among the trees, just metres away. One of them turned in my direction and pointed right at me.

Eight assault rifles trained on me.

Eight bright red laser sights threaded through the darkness and beamed onto my chest.



Henry Frey Versus the Dark Santa book cover

Henry Frey Versus the Dark Santa – Free download!

As it’s Christmas, I am giving away my new Christmas fantasy adventure for free! Download Henry Frey Versus the Dark Santa now.


Henry Frey smells danger when he spots an old enemy in a London toy store. Trouble is, Christmas is just days away, Britain is in chaos and he hasn’t heard from anyone in Alvahame in months. With no one else to help, Henry sets off to save Christmas alone.

A tall hooded figure in a sleigh led by eight reindeer lands in central London. But it’s not Santa Claus. And they’re not reindeer. Henry finds himself out of his depth against a powerful enemy who has been planning his attack on Alvahame for years and knows a lot about him. With his every weakness exposed and his new family in danger, will Henry’s friends from Alvahame be there to help?

Click the download button below (PDF 0.5MB  opens in a new tab)

button to access free download of Henry Frey Versus the Dark Santa



Happy Christmas to all my readers!

Temporary Safety

I was in no hurry to go anywhere after reading about ShadowAspect’s spying mission. Six agreed that staying still is a good tactic sometimes, so he sifted through the notes Silas had provided, looking for clues as to where retired detective Robert Gentry hid the file that everyone was hunting. Like it or not, we were in a race to find it first. Still, I took the chance to get some writing done. The view from some of the windows was the most inspiring I’d worked to in ages.

ShadowAspect had escaped the underground London café without being seen and visited a few other places that concerned Sarasin enough to send him. A couple have already appeared in books we’ve written, some haven’t. Seeing how many of them are on the brink of disaster or destruction, it was really more than I needed to know. I was in enough danger myself.

But I felt safe enough in our safehouse.

Little did we know, someone had already found us.

Mutual Threat

Wolsingham nodded to the bartender. A file rose in the air from behind the bar. It flew through the air and dropped on the table in front of Hoyer.

“What is this?” Hoyer asked – without touching it.

“A retired detective who was asking a lot of questions.”

“About your people or mine?”

“Mine. They took care of him before he could cause any lasting damage. But there are rumours.”


“A file of evidence that he collected before his death. It has never been found. It is said to contain proof of my organisation’s activities and an accurate assessment of our goals.” “This sounds like your problem,” Hoyer shrugged.

“If what I have heard is correct, it also contains evidence supporting his theory of an underground criminal organisation, which employs professionally trained teenagers.”


Hoyer’s expression changed. He flicked through the file, then cleared his throat. “I’ll look into it.”

“You should,” Wolsingham stated. “Jason Rybak is. And you do not want him locating the file before you do.” He moved towards a door behind him, then turned. “You can tell your snipers and armed response unit to stand down. Not that they would have been much use here anyway.”


Suspected Existence

“Members of the security services are already beginning to suspect your existence and the work of your organisation,” Wolsingham said. He gave a sneering laugh. “Mondial. But they are unaware of mine and I need it to stay that way.”

“It is my understanding that there is a specialised agency dedicated to bringing you down.”

“Not for much longer,” Wolsingham replied. “As no one else knows about them, their demise won’t even make page 11 of the Evening Standard.” Wolsingham finished his tea, dabbed his mouth with a serviette and got to his feet. “I need the writer taken care of. In return, my people will provide assistance when you need it. I hope you gleaned everything you needed to with this visit.”

“I did,” Hoyer smiled. “And Jason Rybak will be dead before his first book charting the exploits of your people hits the internet.”


I slammed my laptop shut and bowed over in my chair, trying to suppress the urge to vomit. Two of the most dangerous men in the world, never mind just the UK, and I was their next topic of discussion.

I took a deep breath and read on.

“Jason Rybak,” Wolsingham said. “The second people start taking the content of his work more seriously, we will both be in trouble.”

“I attempted to have him killed,” Hoyer replied. “As I know you did.”

Wolsingham scowled.

“But he has help,” Hoyer continued. “I know nothing about this helper. None of my people have even seen his face. But their accounts suggest he belongs more to your world than mine.”

Alliance of Enemies

The man at the table gazed at Hoyer with contempt.

“I know you Gromas love to linger behind the scenes where no one can see you and revel in your genetic superiority,” Hoyer said calmly. “But it makes you lazy and sloppy. I would take a well-trained ordinary, but talented human being any day of the week. You should spend more time in the real world, Mister Wolsingham.”

“You would not be in your position without people like us. I would hate to see you lose everything you have built by starting a war with me.”

Hoyer laughed.

“I would like to see you try. So far, your people have been as much use as your bartender’s little parlour trick. Our secret weapon in our war against Ciprian’s criminal cooperative failed in spectacular fashion.” Hoyer leaned forward. His jaw clenched. “And worst of all, your deficiencies and our defeat are soon to be made public – by a writer.”

The Hidden Venue

ShadowAspect melted through a couple of walls and emerged in a small electronics shop that had been closed hours ago. Heavy shutters hid what was happening inside.

The two men with guns lingered out of sight by the door. Their boss followed a woman dressed like a shop assistant to a door marked “Private”, then through a stockroom to a large bookcase covered in boxes set against the back wall.

Slinking behind them, ShadowAspect had already seen seven tiny security cameras. They had all been turned off – apart from the one in the bookcase.

The bookcase swung aside. They stepped inside and it shut behind them.

After waiting a few seconds, a heavy security door opened. The man made his way in alone and strode down a dimly lit corridor with impressionist paintings on the wall. Most were fake, but some were originals. The corridor opened out into a bright café with marble floor and walls.

A waiter with a Glock 17 strapped under his apron greeted him and showed him to a table under a rooflight. A glance around the room told the new arrival that everyone there was armed – in one way or another. And they were all watching him.