Shades of Dark – Snippet 2
Shades of Dark
The Hidden Magic Chronicles Book 2
Snippet 2
By Justin Sloan and Michael Anderle
UNEDITED
Alastar laid on his back and closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the speckled evening sunlight that made its way through the leaves above to warm his nude body.
Just yesterday he had been a paladin, chaste and pure. He would never have thought about lying with a clanswoman; he had considered all members of the clans his enemy.
But tonight, Estair was lying beside him, breasts exposed to the evening air, and he felt like he was the luckiest man in the world.
She opened her eyes with a moan, then turned to her side. She propped her head on one hand, moving the other to caress his chest.
She giggled. “You have dirt on your cheek.”
“I’m sure I have it in worse places than that,” he said with amusement.
She hit him playfully. “Don’t be dirty.”
He laughed out loud. “That’s a tough one, out here.”
For a moment he just laid there, enjoying the way her fingers played across his skin. When she stopped, he noticed the distant look in her eyes. “What is it?”
“You mean aside from us being about to ride off to our potential deaths?”
He smiled. “Aye, aside from that.”
“Isn’t that enough to worry you?”
“No,” he replied. “Because I’ve seen what we’re capable of when we all work together. You kicked butt back there, and my sister’s magic is unlike anything I’ve ever seen; anything any of us have seen.”
“And to think you used to be one of the people who would chop off a person’s head for using magic.”
He frowned, pushing himself to a sitting position and rearranging his robes to cover himself. “That’s not fair. While I was a paladin, and still am, maybe… I don’t know. But I never once beheaded anyone.”
“So you weren’t a very good paladin. Is that what you’re saying?”
“You honestly believe that’s our sole mission in life? To kill magic users?”
She sat up too, but didn’t seem to feel the need to cover herself. He appreciated that, though it made him feel strange about his own modesty.
After a moment, she continued, “What I see is a group of men who believe they’re better than the rest of the world. They dole out their version of justice while putting magic users down. For that matter, why aren’t there any female paladins? Explain that, if you’re going to defend the order.”
He frowned. “It…it’s not perfect.”
“Yeah, no shite,” she said with a scoff.
“And that’s why we’re changing the world together,” he offered, placing a hand on her leg.
“Speaking of which…” She glanced at the horizon, orange with sunset. “One day of our rest is almost over.”
“Do you feel rested?” he asked.
“You have no idea.” She scooted over to lean into him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “For a man who claims never to have been with a woman, I’d have to say… Actually, I’d have to say you are lying.”
“Ha. Lying is also against the rules of the Order of Rodrick.”
“But if you were a liar, you’d be fine with lying about lying.”
“You have a point.”
She looked into his eyes. “Are you worried about what we’re riding into?”
“Aye.”
“Is Rhona really your sister?”
“Aye.”
She paused, then asked, “Am I the best lover you’ve ever had?”
“Trick question. You’re the only lover I’ve ever had.” He paused, noting the way her eyes narrowed, and then laughed as he added. “But definitely the best.”
“You pass. I can see you’re telling the truth.”
He kissed her, then froze as he heard someone clearing their throat. When he looked up, Rhona was standing ten feet away, hands over her eyes.
“Please, get dressed you two,” she said. “And brother, you’ve changed.”
“I’ve seen the light, and I like the warmth,” he replied as he stood up, faced away from her, and began to dress.
“It’s only natural,” Estair told her, standing but not bothering to reach for her clothes. “Don’t tell me you’re a prude like your brother here?”
“Don’t say anything,” Alastar warned. “I really don’t know if I want to hear the answer.”
Rhona removed her hands, then, seeing Estair, covered her eyes again. “Aye, well… Let’s just say I’m focused on the mission right now, and if this continues when we’re on the road, I’m going to kill somebody.”
Alastar shared a concerned glance with Estair as he realized he hadn’t really thought about that. They’d be filthy out there, for one. The idea of going days without bathing and then being naked with a woman didn’t sit right.
Apparently Estair was having similar thoughts. She looked away, and then started dressing without even making a joke on the subject. That’s how he knew she was concerned; usually she would make some crass comment, even when she was slightly uncomfortable. It seemed to be her way of dealing with touchy situations. But when she was to the point of not being able to joke about something?
He realized with a gulp that he wasn’t getting any for a bit. Good thing he’d made this time count. And the time just after waking up, and the two times early that morning that had put them to sleep.
Alastar knew he had been making up for lost time, but if he’d known he was making up for time he wasn’t going to get, he might have doubled up.
“Wow, I didn’t mean to cast a blanket of gloom on this party,” Rhona said, hands now at her sides since both Alastar and Estair were mostly dressed. “But that’s more like it.”
“You prefer it when I’m not smiling, sister?” Alastar asked.
“I prefer it when your mind is focused on killing bad guys and finding the Sword of Light,” she replied. “Can you honestly say the last few hours have been spent in rest and preparation?”
He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “If this is your long-winded way of saying we’re ready to ride, then let’s get to it. But the last thing I need—ever—is my little sister telling me what I should or shouldn’t be doing about my needs.”
“And the last thing I ever want to discuss again is your needs, so…” She gestured toward the village. “Shall we?”
“This is going to be a hoot,” Estair remarked, walking past Rhona.
“It’s not supposed to be fun!” Rhona called after her. “We’re fighting to save lives!”
Estair paused and turned back to say, “I’ve been fighting to save lives most of my life. If you don’t find a way to make it fun, you die of depression. The sooner you learn that, the better.”
And that was one of many reasons Alastar liked her. He smiled as he watched her walk off, then saw his sister glaring at him with hands on her hips.
“I think I prefer the old prudish you,” she told him. “So, the paladin oath… All that is out the window now?”
He considered it. “I think it’s safe to say that the old way of being a paladin wasn’t working. It’s time I changed things up a bit.”
“Fine, just do it where I can’t see or hear.” She turned to walk back to the village as well.
He followed, weirdly wishing Donnon didn’t have to stay behind. He didn’t like the idea of his sister with someone any more than he imagined Rhona enjoyed finding him in the state she had. But if it would shut her up, he’d be happy to turn the other way and pretend nothing was happening.
For now, though, he decided both women were right. He needed to focus on the mission ahead, while trying to find any way possible to ensure he kept it fun. Luckily, Estair would likely do plenty of the work in that regard for him.
But whenever she couldn’t step up, he was committed to working on becoming a new man and a new kind of paladin. One who fought for the freedom and even the lives of those who couldn’t fight for themselves, and didn’t give a damn about the silly things the High Paladin had told him mattered.
All that mattered was the survival of the land and its people, as far as he was concerned.
He was trailing behind the two women, just passing the village gate, when he spotted Leila nearby. Her eyes were black, hands moving in a circle as a ball of water rose out of the river and swirled around her, then turned into a small fairy that danced along her arm.
It was a simple act, but one he found endearing. He walked over to her instead of continuing, careful to stand where she could see him.
“I was under the impression that they only showed themselves as spirits or other beings to children,” he said, when it was clear she had noticed his arrival.
Leila smiled and let the fairy dance away, plunging back into the water from whence she came.
“That’s right,” she replied.
“Then what was that?”
Her kind eyes returned to their normal deep blue, smile lines heavy around them. “A woman can remember her friends, even if they never truly existed.”
“Never truly…” He shook off the thought, then held out a hand, and as his eyes glowed gold, the light fairy appeared. She hovered before him, wings of moonlight-pure sparkling light fluttering, and then she flew around his head once before vanishing in a coruscating display that left light falling like sparks of a fire. “I don’t know. They act on their own, right? I mean, did you tell that spirit to make every move she did? Every flutter of her watery wings, was that you?”
“You’d like to believe that light fairy isn’t simply your imagination, I see.” Leila stood and tilted her head as if talking to a child. “My dear Alastar, it’s a matter of your subconscious.”
“My subconscious controls the spirit?”
“When you aren’t specifically focused on it, yes,” Leila replied.
“And you all are so sure…how?”
She frowned, then chuckled. “I suppose we just are. If you want to believe it’s a separate being, go right ahead. Some still do, even as adults. Others, such as myself, have come to see the light. But if you were to ask a mystic to look into your head and find an answer, I can assure you, it wouldn’t be the one you seem to want.”
“Thank you. For that, and for your hospitality.”
“You’ll be back with the horses,” she replied, then pointed at his chest as she added, “I will have my horses returned to me, whether you all survive this or not.”
“We’ll succeed in our quest, and you’ll have your horses,” he replied, then nodded his farewell and left to find the others. As soon as he turned, he came face-to-face with one of the horses, currently ridden by the water mage Gordon.
“This is how it’s going to be?” Gordon asked. “The rest of us waiting on you?”
“I’m trying to better grasp my magic.”
“Better try grasping a leadership position on this mission of ours. You’re the only one who has a chance of finding this magic sword, so what do you say we get moving?”
Leila tried not to smile, but Alastar noticed.
“Do I need to remind everyone that I was instrumental in taking down the sorcerers?” Alastar asked. “Why do I feel like I’m being chastised for enjoying my one day between battles?”
“Maybe it’s about who you enjoyed it with,” Leila remarked wisely, but when he asked her what she meant by that, she smiled, nodded to Gordon, and walked off. “Do be safe,” she called over her shoulder, before ducking into a doorway of a friend’s house.
Alastar sighed and turned to Gordon. “Do I want to ask what that was about?”
“No,” Gordon replied, and then pulled his horse around. “Get saddled up.”
“If I didn’t know how to heal myself, I’d say there was no way I could even walk after riding yesterday.”
“Too bad your ability to heal doesn’t make you a better rider.”
“I’d like to heal your lips together.” Alastar, not meaning it to come out so harsh, instantly regretted saying it.
Gordon looked at him with surprise, then nudged the horse on. Alastar kicked at a mound of dirt, then followed him. On this journey to save the land, he was going to be accompanied by a guy he was on rocky footing with, a sister who didn’t seem particularly happy with him, and a lover he was not supposed to be loving while they were out.
They were riding out to meet remnant and sorcerers in battle, but that didn’t seem to be the worrisome part here. At least he knew how to kill those.
At the stables, he found Rhona and Estair atop their horses. Kia and Donnon were there to wish them luck.
“Remember, anyone gives you trouble, you send them to me to deal with,” Kia ordered. She was still young, but Alastar felt sorry for anyone who crossed her.
“Will do.” He smiled at her and gave Donnon a hearty handshake. “And you, big guy. Be sure to stay close to your daughter. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“Aye, she’d be the one to protect me, not any of you lot,” he agreed with a chuckle. He adjusted his kilt, then stood with his thumbs tucked into its waist. “And you watch your sister. She comes back with a single scratch, I’m holding you responsible.”
“You and me both,” Alastar confirmed.
He mounted his horse with the man’s help. Just moving around in his armor was tough, and it was nearly impossible to mount a horse by himself.
“The four horsemen,” Donnon pronounced with a chuckle. Alastar only got the reference because of old stained glass they had found in some churches, though he was curious what Donnon knew about them.
“Well, two,” Kia corrected. “Two horsemen, and two horsewomen.”
Rhona smiled and said, “How odd that you hadn’t noticed,” to Donnon, who blushed and made some comment about him having plenty of time to notice such things when she returned. Alastar did his best to block that part out.
“Gross, Dad!” Kia groaned, then waved at Alastar as he rode off.
“Yeah, gross,” Alastar agreed with a chuckle, then looked back at his companions. “You coming or what?”
Gordon couldn’t help but smile in spite of the annoyed look in his eyes, and Estair laughed.
“You just focus on staying on your horse,” she cautioned. “We’ll focus on keeping you alive long enough to find this sword.”
“Deal.” He spurred the horse on, already hating the shooting pain each bump sent through his legs.
To find out more about Justin Sloan and his other books http://www.justinsloanauthor.com
Shades of Dark – Snippet 1
Shades of Dark, The Hidden Magic Chronicles Book 2
Snippet 1
UNEDITED (Coming July 11, 2017)
By Justin Sloan and Michael Anderle
Rhona sat at the edge of the water, staring west and wondering if they could ever truly be prepared to set foot on an island rumored to be covered in remnant and ghosts.
It was bad enough that she’d be leaving Donnon and Kia behind, given that the remnant were starting to cause trouble even here. Then there was the invading force Master Irdin had told them about: a dark, secret society that meant to conquer these lands, as best they could figure. Oh, and they were powerful sorcerers, too.
At least the land would be in good hands, since Donnon and his daughter had the ability to control fire.
None of that would matter, though, if she and her brother could retrieve the Sword of Light from Sair Talam and return to unite the lands. For too long they had been at war, the paladins and the clans. For too long the King of Gulanri had left them to their own devices.
Now all of that would come to an end, if only they could achieve their goal quickly.
“So eager to be gone?” Donnon asked, stepping up behind her.
She imagined him wrapping his arms around her, holding her and staring out at the setting sun with his lips gently pressed against her neck. The look in his eyes told her he had a similar idea, but they had agreed not to tempt themselves; not when she had to leave and he had to stay to unite the clans in the land’s defense.
Neither wanted to be so emotionally attached that they would put their missions at risk, so she simply nodded with a forced smile while he licked his lips nervously.
“When we return, everything will be different,” she finally said.
“Aye, of course.” He nodded to the city walls. “Kia has fed the horses, and there is food in your packs.”
“Thank you.” She got lost in his eyes for a moment, then turned, blushing. “If the sorcerers return while we’re gone—”
“We’ll hold them off. I’ve sent riders to the nearest clans with messages for them and to pass on to the outlying clans. If nothing else, they’ll be ready. Best case scenario, we’ll hold our own with the paladins and stand united, even if we’re in hiding when the sorcerers arrive.”
“Those damned paladins,” Rhona replied, shaking her head in frustration. “If they’d just listen to reason…”
“A sentiment we’ve expressed for many years.”
“Well…” Rhona sighed at the thought of the warrior order her brother had once belonged to; that she too, in some ways, had once belonged to. Taland and his wicked tongue—and she meant that in more ways than one—had spread his poison widely within the Order of Rodrick. As far as she was concerned, they were as much an enemy as the remnant at this point.
“Leila was asking about that brother of yours. He seems to have run off.”
Rhona chuckled. “Alastar is like a child who has never been to a bakery before. Suddenly he has access to cakes and tarts whenever he wants them, and can’t get enough.”
“I’d say Estair is definitely more tart than cake, but yeah, I get your meaning.” Donnon flushed, and his eyes darted across her body before he looked away.
She hadn’t meant the words to make him feel awkward, but if they were looking for Alastar, it was true that he was probably rolling in the clover near the river, likely somewhere hidden by the trees.
“I’ll find him,” she offered.
Donnon nodded, his eyes on the ground. “I’ll check on the provisions one last time.”
He turned to go, but Rhona took him by the hand. Their fingers lingered, just barely touching each other, but with a heat that screamed for them to do so much more.
“Be careful,” she said at last.
“You too.” He paused, then lifted her hand and kissed the back of it before walking back to the village.
Her heart was about to tear itself out of her chest, so she focused on those damned paladins and the sorcerers, and what a mess they had caused. Taland’s annoying, cocky smile flashed across her mind and she wanted to reach out and slap him, or better yet, unleash her nails across his face and scar his perfect skin.
She found herself breathing heavily, and she realized that a purple light had begun to glow around her fingertips, causing shadows to move through the grass toward her.
Happy thoughts, she told herself, trying to push the darkness away. If it weren’t for all of this, she never would have met Donnon, right? Or his daughter, Kia, whom she had only just gotten to know and already loved like a little sister, or maybe a daughter, though Rhona wasn’t nearly old enough for that.
She remembered the moment they defeated the witch and sent Master Irdin into retreat, the moment she knew Kia was safe, and flushed with joy.
When she looked again, the purple light was gone and the shadows had retreated. Shaking her head to clear it, she stood up and headed toward the trees to find Alastar, hoping she wouldn’t see anything that would scar her for life.
To see Justin Sloan’s other books and find out more about him http://www.justinsloanauthor.com/
Nomad’s Force -Snippet 4
Nomad’s Force – SNIPPET 4
Terry Henry Walton Book 9
When Terry, Char and their brood arrived, Kimber found her way to Gene’s side, punching him in his massive arm, then turning to hear her father speak. She didn’t know what he was going to talk about. Despite her best efforts, he had remained secretive.
Terry looked from face to face, gauging their mood before he started to speak. He nodded to Butch and Skippy, appreciating the fact that they seemed to be closer to the other Werewolves.
“I have to apologize to all of you. We’ve driven you hard, in some cases, for decades. Shonna was in the power plant back in New Boulder, working like a fiend with Timmons to keep that old mess running. You worked miracles for the rest of us. And here, it was more of the same, but then, we drafted you all to be the tactical team, the ones who were first into harm’s way,” Terry said.
Many in the group shook their heads. Shonna raised a hand. Before Terry could continue, she interrupted.
“Bullshit, Mister Human Man,” she said sarcastically. “You don’t understand how a pack works at all. Didn’t she teach you anything? All this time and you haven’t learned dick.”
Terry gave her his best stink-eye. Kaeden bristled at the way she’d called his father out. He glared at his Aunt Shonna, now able to look down at her because of how he’d grown during the enhancement process.
“As I was explaining, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Terry added pointedly. “We lost members of the pack. Xandrie and Adams, who fought to the end. They fought for the freedom of humans by using their gifts. Were folk are special. Enhanced people are special. The Unknown World has been helping humanity prosper and evolve for many, many centuries. We’re carrying on that tradition, with Akio’s help and support. But now to the meat of what I wanted to talk about.
“You all deserve a vacation. We’re going to take the pod and drop you guys off at the best places all over the world, where you can relax and do what you do. Part of that deal is that you are our eyes and ears, looking for Forsaken or other things out of place. You’ll all be on your own, with your communication device and however you want to use it. Here’s what I recommend, but this is your vacation, so everything is up for discussion. You’ll get your say,” Terry told them
Char was standing behind him and all eyes went to her as she casually drew her finger across her throat while shaking her head.
Terry caught the collective shift of their attention. He rolled his eyes and turned to his wife. Her finger darted to her silver streak of hair and twirled it. She dipped her head and smiled shyly.
“What did you do?” he asked. She shook her head and leaned back.
“Continuing on,” Terry said, returning his attention to the others. “Sue and Timmons will remain in San Francisco. Judging by Sue’s new wardrobe, I doubt they’ll ever leave. Shonna and Merrit. We’d like you to return to Cancun. Last time we were there, you took an arrow, but I can’t believe the place has gone that far downhill. They still had power for lights, so we’d like to know if a Forsaken has set up shop, even though we didn’t see one when we were last there.”
Terry stopped because Shonna and Merrit were high-fiving each other.
“Can we stop by San Francisco on our way? I could use a new swimsuit, well, any swimsuit actually,” she laughed.
“Aaron and Yanmei. We could use some eyes in China. You pick where you’re talents and your vacation will best serve both you and us. I suggest you talk with Eve,” Terry told them, but Yanmei was shaking her head.
“Tianjin in the north, would be my first guess and what I learned while with Kirkus was that it survived the nuclear exchanges. If Eve can confirm its growing population, that’s where we will go. It is also the closest port to Beijing,” Yanmei explained.
“Sounds great. We’ll double check to make sure it’s got people and we’ll drop you there. Butch and Skippy. How does New York City sound?”
“Sounds great!” Skippy blurted, before checking with Butch. She nodded her head.
“I agree. What do you need us to do?” Butch asked.
“Lower Manhattan, what used to be the financial district. It seems that area is building up faster than the rest. We’ve seen some ships working the port. We’ve also spotted an airship around there. We’re not sure where it came from or what it’s doing. It would be nice to get some answers.”
Gene watched Terry expectantly.
“And then there’s you,” Terry started, slowly enunciating each word. Gene motioned for Terry to continue, but Terry hesitated. Gene started making a cranking motion and casually rolled out his prominent middle finger. “How about Russia, my large friend? You and Fu hanging out in Petersburg?”
Gene dropped his hands and stood with his mouth open. “Fu and me in Russia?” he finally managed to stammer. “I know Petersburg well, both before and after. You are my friend for life!”
Gene reached for Terry. TH tried to back up, but his children blocked him. The Werebear picked Terry up like a small child and jumped up and down.
Terry took like it a man, having no choice since his arms were pinned to his sides.
When Gene put Terry down, the colonel nodded and continued talking. “Andrew and Joseph will go on a walkabout of Chicago, see what’s going on down there. I’ll talk with them when I see them.”
Terry moved across the circle of people so he could face the youngest among them. “And you bunch have the hardest jobs of all. We’ll need each of you to establish tactical teams made up of FDG warriors. I want you each to have ten. Once that’s complete, we’ll reorganize the FDG in a way that makes the most sense.”
To find out more about Craig Martelle’s books and his life in Alaska: http://www.craigmartelle.com
Born into Flames – Snippet 4
Born into Flames, Reclaiming Honor Book 5
This is the last snippet before the book goes out!
Snippet 4
By Justin Sloan and Michael Anderle
UNEDITED
The Eastern Coast, Former Canada
Valerie walked along a small ridge, looking out toward the water in the distance, an endless spread of darkness, wondering how far they would have to go before reaching the point where the blimp had landed. She was certain it would be along the coast, so it was only a matter of time.
With sunrise coming soon, however, she knew time was a luxury best not wasted. Unlike her, with the ability to walk in the sunlight and not needing blood for energy, Robin was a young vampire. If they hadn’t reached their destination and found shelter by sunrise, they could either set up camp, or cover the younger woman in the assassin clothes that protected her from the sun but made her look like a ninja.
Although Robin wouldn’t say so, Valerie was fairly certain the woman didn’t like wearing those clothes one bit. They had been what she was forced to wear by the vampires who made her, those same vampires that forced her to fight, although she had refused to kill innocents.
“How is it you avoided killing anyone, yet still had enough blood?” Valerie asked as Robin joined her and they continued on.
For a moment they walked in silence, their vampire sight helping them to see where they were going in the darkness.
When the first signs of red touched the sky over the water, Robin made a grunting sound, and then said, “It was Brad. He did it, pretended like I had so that I wouldn’t get into trouble.”
“And you two weren’t a… thing?”
Robin scoffed. “I’m sure he would’ve liked that. But no.”
It wasn’t the first time Valerie had confirmed this, but she wanted to be sure. Robin couldn’t give her full attention to the fight and search for her parents if even half of her heart was back there in Old Manhattan. That’s where this Brad character now was, along with the rest of the surviving assassin vampires who had pledged their loyalty.
She knew that feeling all too well, and still laughed at the thoughts of when she’d gone after the blood hunters and sellers at the Bazaar. She had been so intent on killing them, while knowing Jackson was waiting for her, that she had even had thoughts of him in the middle of fights, flashing across her mind just long enough to be distracted.
It wasn’t that she was worried about losing, or death. She wasn’t worried at all, but she was concerned that distractions could lead to not accomplishing missions.
They paused for Robin to take a bite of jerky. She offered it to Valerie, who shook her head.
“We need to ensure we have enough for you, first,” Valerie said.
Robin chewed, glancing over at her, then swallowed. “If we find them, my parents, what then?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
Robin pocketed the jerky and stayed there, hands in her pockets. “They’ll be either dead, or part of a large slave community, I’d think. So…”
“We set them all free,” Valerie said, frowning as she wondered why this wasn’t obvious. “The people, vampires or not, responsible for making them slaves will face justice, and pay the price of such a crime with their lives.”
“Do you always talk like that?”
Valerie blinked, taken aback. “I’m sorry, like what?”
“Justice this, justice that.” Robin chuckled. “Can’t you just say we’ll tear their heads off and spit down their throats? We’ll gouge out their eyes with our claws, disembowel them with a fucking spoon, or tear off their genitals with a rusty hoe?”
“Fuuu—uck.” Valerie stared at her, wide eyed. “I could say all that, but then I’d have to sit in a corner, rocking myself to sleep in hopes that I could drive the images from my mind.”
“Just seems more appropriate, is all.”
“Do you ever wonder if the Black Plague vampires got to you more than you’d like to admit?”
“Fuck you,” Robin said, continuing the walk. “I have a vivid imagination. I’d like to see those vivid acts of horrible meanness inflicted upon the people who enslaved my parents. I can’t think of anything more natural and pure.”
Valerie caught up, bit her lip, and nodded. “You’re right. Of course you are.”
“So…?”
“You’re going to make me say it?” Valerie rolled her eyes. “We’ll snap their shins in half, then pull the bone from their flesh and use it to impale their hearts. Is that good?”
Robin thought about it for a moment, then smiled. “It sounds grosser when coming out of someone else’s mouth.”
“See, I told you!”
“But we’re still going to do all those things, right?” Robin turned to her, eyes pleading.
“Damn, you look like a girl asking for a pony for Christmas,” Valerie replied. “Of course. We’ll do each of those things, even make a checklist and not rest until that checklist is filled with little, vampire scrawl check marks. Deal?”
“Deal.”
They turned back, a smile on Valerie’s lips, when she froze. “Do you see that?”
Robin stepped forward, narrowing her eyes. “It’s either a giant butt or two blimps.”
“I’d place money on the latter,” Valerie replied, “and on one of them being the one we were following.”
They crouch-ran along the hill, until they were at a closer point where it was very clear that what they had seen was the blimps, and that there was a small outpost just beyond them. Valerie ducked now, not wanting to be seen, and motioned for Robin to do the same.
Next, she shimmied forward, pulling herself along by her elbows and staying low to avoid being spotted in the moonlight by the pirate outpost below. She wanted to see what they were dealing with before charging in, guns blazing and sword swinging.
Orange dirt covered her arms and clothes now, but she didn’t care. It was just one more layer of grime added to the yuck of walking for so long. Both were eager to move on and find their targets—the pirates disrupting Old Manhattan trade, in Valerie’s case, and for Robin, those responsible for possibly enslaving her parents.
Valerie watched the movement in the night, a small outpost by the looks of it. Lights bobbed around like fireflies, but in reality, she knew they were men and women with lanterns.
The lights moved around the large blimp closer to them, showing something was being unloaded.
“These are the fuck-stick jerks who took our stuff,” Valerie said.
“And the nose-bleeding dick sacks who will know where my parents are.”
“The hell is a dick sack?”
Robin scrunched her nose, and shrugged. “Excuse me for not knowing something I don’t care about. We didn’t exactly have class on the stuff.”
Valerie shook her head. “A topic for another night. And… wow.” She sat there, watching for a moment longer, then asked, “Did you swear this much when we first met?”
“It’s an acquired taste,” Robin said. “And it tastes better and better the closer we get to these pirates.”
Valerie nodded, understanding that sentiment.
She was glad they had gone this way. Originally, they had meant to head northwest, having heard stories of piracy due north of the lakes where they had encountered the vampire, Gerard, and his followers. But there was something to be said about following the water, as the pirates at least started there and would provide a route from which to find the pirate haven referred to as Toro.
A ruffling sounded beside Valerie, and she looked over to see Robin, face-mask of her all-black assassin outfit pulled down as it often wasn’t night.
“You don’t have to dress the part,” she said.
Robin’s eyes narrowed. “It makes me feel better about taking a life… pirate or no.”
Valerie was about to stand up and lead the charge, when she put a hand out. “Maybe… we should proceed with caution?”
“You? Are you serious?”
“I mean, because we need to ensure someone’s alive to tell us where to go from here.” Valerie gestured toward the hills and vast darkness around them, only a hint of red from the rising sun kissing the tops of the hills in the distance. “We need someone to tell us.”
Robin nodded, looking like she was about to say something, when—
BAM!
“The hell was that?” Valerie asked, moving up to a kneeling position to get a better look.
Again the sound came, and there was no questioning that it was gunshots. A small fire went off from a muzzle below, then more, and then someone screamed as a dark form moved among them.
Valerie and Robin turned to each other with wide eyes.
“We gotta stop them from killing everyone,” Robin said, and then she led the charge down to the pirate camp.
Check our Justin’s other books and follow him at http://www.justinsloanauthor.com
Born into Flames – Snippet 3
Born into Flames, Reclaiming Honor Book 5
By Justin Sloan and Michael Anderle
Snippet 3
UNEDITED
Royland crouched as he walked along a crudely-made roof of mostly two-by-fours and plywood. It seemed to be a lookout station. Too bad that hadn’t worked out so well for the previous occupant, but now it made for a perfect viewpoint for Cammie and him.
They had been observing the pirate outpost for several hours now, mostly to ensure it was actually pirates, but also to see if there were any vampires or Weres among them. So far, it seemed the answer was no.
This wasn’t the first group of pirates they had come across, which kind of surprised him. When they set off from Old Manhattan, they had expected to come across one main pirate base where everything was being conducted. Turns out, at least along the coast, a lot of pirates had gathered. They weren’t all Canadians, either, but groups from overseas—Spanish, Algerian, Laotian, and, most of all it seemed, Norse. Apparently, someone had been hard at work organizing the pirates around a cause.
Unfortunately for that someone, said cause conflicted with Old Manhattan’s path toward becoming a conflict-free hub of the new world, or at least a new America. They couldn’t allow interruptions in trade, and the idea of allowing a massing of criminals just north, on the same continent no less, was certainly unacceptable.
The first group they had come across was one of these ragtag groups, apparently on a scouting mission. Cammie didn’t even bother hiding that time, she just walked right up, asked if they were part of the pirate group known to be stealing supplies via ship and airship interceptions.
“You bet your pretty little ass we are,” a tall man said. He stared down at her over a crooked nose with eyes so dark they looked black.
“What, we steal your new panties and now you’re looking to swap?” a fat guy amongst the group said, earning him a chuckle from the other three, all except the tall one.
She didn’t even bother with a retort. Royland knew doing so wasn’t her style, so he wasn’t surprised in the least when she simply pulled out her kali fighting sticks and whacked the guy across the temple, hard enough to draw blood.
He stumbled back as the others froze in confusion, then she smiled and said, “As we were asking—”
But one of them charged her, doing his best to lower his center of gravity and pick her up. She was too fast for that and, with a twitch of her nose, was off to the side and had shaken the top parts of her kali sticks off to reveal the blades beneath. A downward thrust brought the blades into the area between the man’s neck and shoulders, causing him to moan and then simply collapse at her feet.
The tall man turned his almost black eyes on Royland and stared, then held up both hands. “You with her?”
Royland nodded.
“You the same thing as her? ‘Cause we have a hefty bonus waiting for any that bring back the head of a Were, or any supernatural creature for that matter.”
“Not interested,” Royland said. “But I’m very glad you told me that.”
“How’s that?”
Royland smiled enough to show his vampire fangs, and then his eyes began to glow red. “Makes me feel better about my decision to kill you.”
He lunged forward, Cammie taking the hint at his side and moving in for the fat one. The pirates couldn’t have done anything about it even if they had seen it coming. With each action coming faster to him, he had taken down two before she took down her one. The tall man stumbled backward and fell, but Royland leaped for him just as Cammie was about to make her move.
She growled, and he smiled up at her, claws to the man’s throat. “What, you wanted us each to get two? It was an odd number to start.”
“That means you get the majority?”
“One of us has to.” He smiled. “Tell you what, let’s flip for him.” He stepped back and, with one hand, lifted the guy by the waist of his pants to hurl him, spinning in the air. “Call it.”
“The fuck?” she started, then, seeing the man was about to land, shouted, “tails!”
The man landed with a thud, face down, and commenced with shouting obscenities.
“Wish I could say I was sorry,” Royland said with a shrug to Cammie, then kicked the guy in the face to shut him up. “But this guy did insult me.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, he basically said he wanted to take your head, and maybe mine.”
“And that’s an insult to you?”
“You’re my girl, after all.”
“Hell no,” Cammie said, and tossed one of her blades so that it landed in the pirate’s side. She lifted her other one, preparing to strike.
“The hell?” Royland pulled the short sword free and tossed it back to Cammie. “I won the toss, fair an’ square.”
“And then you tried to claim ownership of me, for which you’re gonna have to pay.”
He stared at her for a moment, then said, “Ah, shit. Go on then.”
The pirate started squirming at that comment, then shouting as Cammie pulled his head back by the hair, blade to his throat. “What do you do with the supplies?”
“The hell are you talking about?” the pirate muttered.
“Whatever you intercept, or steal. Where does it go?”
“I’m a scout, not one of the raiders.”
Royland nodded and stepped forward so that he could kneel in front of the pirate. “But you’ve seen where they go, haven’t you? There’s a home base of sorts?”
The pirate glared, then spat. “Go to hell.”
“You fucking goat-cheese smelling dick,” Cammie said, her knife digging into the man’s throat.
Royland’s hand shot out, catching her wrist and holding it from going farther. “Wait. Let’s give this man a choice. He tells us and dies quickly, or,” here he let his fangs grow extra long and his eyes burn with red, “we allow me to slowly feed on him, until he’s entirely too thin, and then kill him anyway.”
The pirate gulped, but held strong. Or tried to, until Royland’s fangs sunk into his wrist and the first blood drained away.
“There’s an outpost not far from here!” the man yelled.
“We flew into one, just a ways south,” Cammie offered.
“No, I’m talking north and a bit east. You can’t miss it, but you’ve gotta be looking and know which direction you’re headed.”
“And maybe you’re telling us wrong? Maybe you’re leading us into a trap?”
He laughed at that. “After what you just did to my boys? Damn right, it’s a trap. But it’s the trap you asked for. You go walking into a pirate outpost, even if it isn’t the main base of ops, you can damn well bet they’ll tear you a new asshole.”
“Speaking of tearing and new ones,” Royland said with a nod to Cammie, “let’s get on with it.”
Cammie’s knife tore across the man’s throat and Royland swept in to feed. It was a much-needed recharge after the cramped blimp ride and then the fighting.
The next two groups had confirmed the direction, and Cammie even insisted they let one of the men live when he told them he had only just joined up with the pirates and had nowhere else to go.
“Head south to Old Manhattan,” Cammie told him as she watched Royland feed on the man’s dying companions, her chest beating at the sight. She licked her lips and turned her focus back on the man. “You’re truly looking to reform, they’ll take you in.”
He ran off, so scared he forgot to thank them for a second chance at life.
Now this blimp was arriving, and it became very clear that this was pirates, and that the flapping tents and crudely constructed buildings at the water’s edge made up the pirate outpost.
Something bothered Royland as he watched the blimp touch down and then the men begin to unload. More ran out and helped, looking like ants scurrying about in the darkness. There was a sizable population here, it seemed, but the pirate who’d given them directions had said something about a main base of ops. Based on the way he spoke, that led Royland to think that the guy might have been former military, and that there was a much larger group of these pirates… and they were organized, at least to some degree.
“No use standing around staring,” Cammie said, hands resting on her belt, cowboy hat tilted to one side.
“The sun will be up in a couple hours, I’d wager,” Royland said.
“All the more reason to get in there and get rid of them ASAP.”
He nodded and muttered, “Looks like I won’t go hungry, at least.”
“You know what I find hot as hell about you?” She laughed and gave him a shrug. “You’re fucking hot, the way the blood drips down your chin when you feed, or how you almost caress the body as you drink, as if you’re making love to it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He frowned, thinking back to his feeding and wondering if that was remotely true. “Maybe you’re putting something on me that isn’t there.”
She scoffed. “Just pay attention next time, you’ll see. Don’t get all self-conscious about it, I’m telling you it’s hot as balls.”
“Please tell me you didn’t just metaphorically compare my supposedly sexy drinking of blood to wrinkled skin that holds reproductive spheres.”
“Just a saying.” She made a face and glanced at his crotch, then back up when he cleared his throat. “We can change it to something like ‘hot as Royland drinking blood,’ but it doesn’t have the same ring to it. In your case, I’d say both apply.”
He actually felt himself blush at that, then shook his head with a laugh. “You’re an odd one, Cammie. And that’s what I like about you.”
“Yeah?” She waved him off as if the subject was played out. “So, get in there, or what?”
Knowing her way of talking, he had to be sure she meant ‘get in there’ like go down to the outpost and attack, not something else. He chuckled and said, “We kill pirates, find out where their main base is, then take shelter from the sun and tear each other to pieces, figuratively speaking, of course.”
“I like your plan, big man.” She was the first to step off, not even looking to see if he was following.
He loved that about her—confidence that he would follow. And he had no problem following someone like her. Especially when he knew where it led and what followed.
Find out more about Justin Sloan’s books at http://www.justinsloanauthor.com
Sanctioned – TAM 04 – Snippet 03 of … 03
UNEDITED
Gaitune-67, Base conference room
Joel sat in a pod on the hangar deck, having carefully selected one that was turned away from the main walkway.
He’d wanted a quiet word with Oz, and the small space, coupled with the audio integration, meant that he could easily have a two-way conversation with Oz here; better than anywhere else on the base or in the safe house.
Joel waited until the pod door was firmly closed. “Heard you accidentally let ADAM know what the plan was?”
Oz’s audio channel cracked open. “Yeah. Won’t be making that mistake again. She was not pleased.”
Joel’s voice was sympathetic. “Yeah. She’ll get over it. I don’t think it was a big secret, anyway.”
Oz’s voice didn’t convey that he was overly concerned. “Yes. I think I’d agree with you. My Molly mood-heuristic has her being completely back to normal with me by the time the group meeting is over.”
Joel’s tone was incredulous and amused. “You’re kidding! You model her moods?”
“And behavior,” Oz added.
Joel thought for a moment and leaned back in his seat, leaning one elbow against the side of the capsule. “Wow. But what for?” he asked.
Oz’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Wouldn’t you like to have a heads up on how she is going to react to something, instead of sitting around and waiting?”
Joel chuckled, hardly believing his ears. “You mean you can make predictions that are accurate?”
Oz’s voice conveyed that he had realized that Joel was impressed by his operation. “Yes; within a certain tolerance, of course,” he answered, a little pleased with himself.
Joel shook his head, and whistled a little through his teeth. “You’ll have to tell me more about that some time.”
“Sure,” Oz promised. “So, what’s on your mind?”
“Well…” Joel started slowly. “It’s Sean.” He paused a moment. “Well, it’s not Sean,” he corrected himself. “It’s me. I mean, I’m used to being surrounded by competitive jackasses; but normally I can hold my own. But Sean,” he sighed, “he just has too much over me.”
Oz’s voice revealed he would have been smiling. “Ah yes, his enhanced capabilities,” he confirmed sympathetically.
“Right,” Joel agreed, glumly.
“And you’re wondering what I might be able to do to help?” Oz checked.
Joel nodded, shifting his elbow, which had been slipping down the side of the pod. “You read my mind, Oz.”
Oz chuckled. “No – just your heuristic.”
Joel frowned, and sat up straighter. “You’re kidding?” he asked, half impressed, half disbelieving he warranted that much trouble.
“Yes, I am kidding,” Oz confessed. “I haven’t modeled your behavior formally. But, to be fair, you’re not as erratic or complex as Molly, so…”
Joel laughed to himself. “Yeah. I hear you,” he agreed, his attention drifting off as he remembered some of her infuriating complexities. He shook his head, bringing himself back to the conversation. “So, what do you think you can do for me?” he asked.
“Well,” Oz conceded, “nothing from your current installations… But,” he continued, “if we could acquire some additional implants and tech, we could do a heap of stuff.”
Oz paused.
“What exactly are you looking for?” he clarified.
Joel hesitated. “Faster reflexes. For ops,” he added quickly.
Oz couldn’t see, but Joel’s face flushed a little pink.
Oz chuckled. Joel could feel the slight vibration of his laughter through the seat of the pod.
“What’s so funny?” Joel asked.
Oz’s voice was still bouncing with humor a little. “Nothing. Just funny how male humans compete!”
Joel dropped his arm from where he had wedged himself and was almost up out of the seat in protest. “I’m not competing. I’m… I’m…”
The vibrations of Oz’s laughter paused. “Yes?” Oz prompted.
Joel deflated, and slumped back into the chair. “Okay. I’m competing,” he admitted, flushing an even deeper shade of pink. “But it will also be good for the team,” he added weakly.
Oz chuckled again. “This is true,” he concurred. “Which is why I’m going to help.”
Oz went quiet for a few moments. Joel shifted awkwardly in the pod, still feeling a bit hot around the face.
Finally Oz spoke again. “We’re going to need a set of implants, which I’ll have ordered up on the next shipment. And you’re going to have to bring Brock in on this.”
Joel nearly shot out of his seat again. “Whaaaa?” he blurted. “Brock? Why him?”
Oz’s voice was steady, with a hint of irony. “He’s the only one of us with a body who might have the necessary skills to implant the devices we’re going to need.”
Joel settled a little, huffed, and wedged his arm back onto the side of the pod for comfort. Then suddenly, he looked suspicious. “Hang on,” he stalled. “Where exactly are these devices going?”
Oz sounded more clinical now. “We should have a stimulator-cum-relay at the bottom of your brainstem, and then one on the outside of the cortex.”
Joel did a double-take, glaring at the heads up display in front of him, as if he could eyeball Oz. “You what what?! You’re talking about Brock doing brain surgery on me?”
Oz sighed. “Well, yes. Technically. But no need to be so melodramatic!” he exclaimed. “The one in the brainstem can be injected, and it will settle in place. The one in the cortex will go in around your temple, where the bone is thin anyway,” he explained somewhat flippantly.
Joel went pale, the effects of any blushing completely neutralized.
Oz continued. “It will be fine. Brock has more than enough dexterity to take out a tiny slice of bone, put the implant in, and then replace the bone and let it heal up,” he reassured Joel. “You’ll hardly feel a difference once it’s in…” He paused, and then qualified his statement. “Unless it overheats.”
Joel’s voice jumped a few octaves. “What do you mean, ‘unless it overheats’?” He suddenly remembered himself, that he was trying to keep his presence in the pod a secret.
Oz pulled up a simple diagram from the product page of the device he had located on the XtraNET. “It’s a slight risk. If the chip doesn’t go into precisely the right amount of tissue, it won’t be able to run the signal, and so it might heat up.”
The area around Joel’s eyes rumpled in confusion and frustration. “In which case?” he pushed.
Oz remained clinical. “In which case, we simply remove it and try again.”
Joel shook his head in disbelief. “Oh, right, so no big deal, then.”
“Right,” Oz agreed plainly.
Joel looked out onto the hangar deck, away from the brain diagram. “I was being ironic,” he told him.
“Yeah, I got that,” confirmed Oz.
Joel was silent for a moment, thinking through his options. He could always not have the procedure and just keep working out. But then he’d never have Sean’s reactions. Or speed. Or strength.
He sighed. “Okay, so I need to have a word with Brock at some point, then?”
Oz’s channel had gone quiet. Hearing Joel’s response, the audio opened up again. “Yes. I’ll let you know when we might expect these parts though.”
Joel leaned forward to grab the handrail and pull himself out of his seat as the door opened up again. “Okay, great. And thanks, Oz. I appreciate you helping me.”
“Of course,” Oz replied. “Got to help a brother out.”
Joel grinned and hopped out of the pod quietly.
Before closing the door, he peeked around the hangar, just to make sure no one was around. Satisfied, he waved his hand in front of the access panel, and the transparent door slid quietly down.
Joel crept for a few strides, and then stood up straight and walked casually back to the main thoroughfare around the outside of the hangar deck.
Sean Royale, you cocky son of a bitch. I’m going to show you and your cyborg ass who can shoot, he thought as he climbed the stairs two at a time back towards the demon door corridor.
FROM MICHAEL >>> So, Ellie is working through last minute JIT stuff on the book, and she allowed me to have this last author notes on the final snippet before the book releases tomorrow.
Bwuhahahahaha… <**Cough Cough**, oops, I meant “Great!”>
<WARNING – CURSING AHEAD>
This book is fucking awesome. When we laid out the whole 12 book arc, each “4” books is a natural stopping point if we got it wrong, and the fans just don’t want anymore books. So, we had a natural ending that could have occurred.
Thanks to the amazing response from you, the readers, we are pushing for book #5 to release in about 3 weeks or so.
DAMN!
However, let me warn everyone that Ellie has had a rough time with health (caffeine – see her Facebook page) among other things, so that could slip. I would rather she have the option to “go for it, and then adjust” than drag herself too far down.
However, I tried to warn her to push it back, but … Yeah, SHE’S GOING FOR IT.
Now that I’ve said something supportive, let me go find another ‘note’ … It’s time for
“TRAVAILS OF WORKING WITH A BRITISH COLLABORATOR.”
(An ongoing series all by its fucking self. A comedy in 12 parts.)
Setup: By now, I know that Ellie is a (literal) genius. Physics, business, IQ God knows where. However…
(You knew there was a ‘however‘, right?)
However, I was chatting about something and the conversation gets around to a piano she owns, or did own, or something and I find out that she is a very good piano player.
#SONOFABITCH – The best ‘playing’ I can do is (now) tell SIRI or ALEXA to “Hey Alexa, play <Insert Band Here>”. I used to say hit the play button on the radio, but I don’t even do that, now.
Not that my, by now, mute ego was saying, “Seriously? Seriously? She fucking plays a goddamn piano as well? What the fuck else?” Or anything…
But it was, it totally was.
Anyway, we are having this conversation, my (now not) mute ego was bitching in the back of my mind as we carry on our talk when we have this snippet of conversation:
Ellie: (in her British Accent) The Cello is a completely other musical instrument, it opens <other mind paths or some logical and sciency stuff… my ego was already starting to whine and it was hard to listen to two voices at the same time>.
Mike: Are you going to tell me that you play multiple instruments?
SIGNIFICANT Pause.
Ellie: No, I wasn’t going to tell you that…
<My ego just rolled it’s eyes and feinted…>
Born Into Flames – Snippet 2
Born into Flames, Reclaiming Honor Book 5
Snippet 2
By Justin Sloan and Michael Anderle
UNEDITED
Sandra rolled over in bed, the nausea of early pregnancy already making her want to punch Diego for making this her reality. Not that she’d trade it for a second—she wasn’t some vampire set on dealing out justice. She was just a woman trying to survive in this crazy world, and in approximately eight months, a mom trying to keep a family safe in it.
That meant she had less than eight months to do everything in her power to ensure her world, or at least the world that could touch them, was as safe as possible.
Holding her own hair back over the toilet didn’t exactly help her in that goal, but at the moment seemed a necessary evil. She dry heaved twice, then heard a pounding of footsteps behind her.
“Dear?” Diego said, kneeling beside her and holding back her hair. “Is this… normal?”
“Haven’t known many pregnant women, huh?” The words came out with more of a bite than she had meant, but what the hell, she was pregnant. It was late at night, and she was in pain. He could deal with a little grouchiness.
“Honestly, none that I can remember,” he replied.
She nodded, knowing that made sense. In times like these, people weren’t eager to bring new life into the world. It happened, but even when people tried, it wasn’t exactly easy anymore. During talks with Diego at the small vineyard he had made for her, they had decided it likely had to do with the fallout of the collapse of civilization. Whatever had caused that had probably left lasting effects that meant childbirth either wasn’t for everyone, or just made it harder to conceive.
They had laughed about it, and that night laughed some more while they joked about how they could go at it like rabbits and not have to worry about repercussions. And damn, could he bring it. She wasn’t sure if that was the Were in him, or just him—not that it mattered, because him being a Were was part of who he was—but she couldn’t believe the levels of ecstasy he’d brought her to.
And now, as another shudder of pain and nausea swept over her, she just wanted to slap him for even considering touching her.
The way he held her hair back with one hand and caressed her back with the other was certainly helping alleviate that feeling, though. She sighed, closed her eyes, and then pulled herself together.
Diego helped her up and squinted, apparently unsure what he should do here.
“I’m not gonna bite,” she said, washing her hands, since they’d been on the bathroom floor and edge of the toilet. “That’s your job.”
“Are you… coming back to bed?”
She turned off the water and dried her hands, then wrapped her arms around him and gave him a loving kiss. With a smile, she took his hand and walked with him to the main room and the window that looked out over Old Manhattan.
The city was mostly dark but for the glow of moonlight and, in the direction of Capital Square, yellow and blue from neon lights. The view from their new home even showed Enforcer HQ, towering over them, its blue strip along the side lit up like a beacon of law.
They had been staying there before their journey with Valerie to Chicago, but since their return, they figured it was best to be out of the target area. Since dealing with the outside forces, the unruly of Old Manhattan had one main target, and that was Enforcer HQ. Not exactly the type of place you want to be when you’re dealing with pregnancy and figuring out how to raise a family.
“Where do you think they are?” she asked, breaking the silence.
He wrapped his arms around her, creating the perfect picture of a soon-to-be family in the reflection of the window. “You worry about Valerie so much. Will it ever stop?”
“Yeah, yeah. I know, she’s the most powerful woman around.” Sandra leaned her head back so it rested against Diego’s. He was on the shorter side, otherwise she would have been resting her head on his chest. Not that it mattered—he had certainly proven himself over and over, and shown that height had nothing to do with being a man or being able to protect your loved ones.
“The most powerful woman?” Diego laughed. “She’s a day-walking vampire who doesn’t need blood anymore to rejuvenate. That should scare you, not worry you.”
“People with power tend to put themselves in dangerous positions. She’s not invincible.”
“But she has that assassin chika with her,” Diego protested. “From what I saw, that girl could hold her own nearly as well as Valerie.”
“You were watching?” Sandra bit her lip and rolled her eyes at herself. “Sorry, pregnancy brain. I promise, I’m not jealous or anything like that.”
Diego rubbed her belly and kissed her cheek. “You’d never have any reason to be.”
She pulled back, looking from him to their reflection. “Are we really as sappy as everyone says we are?”
“Tell me who said that,” Diego replied. “I’ll tear out their eyes so they don’t ever have to watch us again.”
“Or ears so they don’t have to listen?” Sandra shook her head with a chuckle. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary. Let them talk if that’s what they need to do to get over the fact that they don’t have someone to love.”
Diego squinted, looking her up and down. “Speaking of loving…”
“Are you serious, you just held my hair back, while I nearly puked my guts out.”
“But nothing came up…”
“Yuck, man.” She laughed, squeezed his hand, and then moved to the bathroom while he lay back in bed. She turned on the shower. As she undressed and steam fogged the mirror, she assessed her belly, wishing she could see more of a bump. She couldn’t wait for it to stick way out, or for the days when she would be able to see the baby moving and kicking in there.
“Diego?” she said.
“Yeah?” he called from the other room.
“If our baby is a Were, he won’t like… try to claw his way out of me or something?”
“Dear, I promise that’s not something to worry about.”
“But if it was, you wouldn’t tell me anyway, would you?”
Silence. That’s what she thought.
It didn’t do any good to stand here thinking about it, though, so she slid back the shower door and stepped in. When she first felt the warm water cleanse her skin, all sickness and dreariness was washed away.
“Diego?” she called out.
“Yes, dear?”
“Don’t go to sleep just yet,” she said with a playful sing-song voice.
“Yes, dear!”
Find out more about Justin Sloan and his other books at http://www.justinsloanauthor.com
Sanctioned – TAM Book 04 – Snippet 02 of …
UNEDITED
Gaitune-67, Safe house, Kitchen
Joel found Molly in the safe house kitchen, doing battle with the mocha machine.
Again.
“Þöngulhaus Kaffivél,” Molly cussed. “I swear this machine can see me coming. Oz? Help.”
Joel stood in the doorway, watching her press buttons and rattle at panels and levers that didn’t want to budge. “Stressful day, dear?” he asked.
Molly looked up and glared. “It would be fine if I could get this fucking heap of trash to cooperate.”
She turned back to the machine.
Oz?
You’re trying to process a fresh cup, but there is already an empty pod in there.
Fuck my life.
Molly grappled with another panel on the machine, and managed to pull it open. She peered into the little compartment that had popped out and dug out a crinkled piece of plastic. Dumping it in the trash, she turned back to Joel.
“Well, that couldn’t have gone much worse,” she said.
Joel watched her, amused. “You’re talking about making a first impression on your new team member?” he clarified.
She scowled at him.
Joel grinned. “I think you did perfectly. She now knows exactly what she’s getting herself into…” He couldn’t help but chuckle silently, his shoulders and chest bouncing in amusement.
Molly slammed the panel shut and put the mug back under the machine. “I’m glad you’re amused,” she retorted, poking at the button on the machine again.
Joel, still grinning, pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and plunked down. “Okay, let’s see what we can do about this leadership thing. I mean, you were doing so well! What, with finding a way to keep Crash from going crazy, and listening to the others about what they need to be motivated and engaged on this isolated rock.”
Molly turned and leaned against the counter while the machine whirred and did its thing. “Yeah, really great… You know that Crash hasn’t been using the pods just to get his cabin fever ya-yas out?”
Joel cocked his head. “Huh?”
Molly folded her arms. “Yeah, he’s using his pod time to go and see some chick he’s been talking to on the other side of the asteroid.”
Joel looked confused. “But Paige said he’s been more relaxed since he had pod time.”
Molly raised her eyebrows knowingly. “Well…” she paused, waiting to see if the penny would drop. When Joel showed no signs of putting it together, she moved on. “The point is, this ‘motivating the troops,’ or, more precisely, training and managing them, bites.”
The machine fell silent and she picked up her mug. “You want one?” she asked Joel, indicating at the machine.
He shook his head. “No thanks. But this management thing is just something you need to work on. No one – well, very few people – are able to just do it naturally. Why do you think the military invests so much in leadership training, and personnel development?”
Molly sat down on the other side of the corner where Joel had placed himself. She hugged her mug with two hands and shrugged. “Dunno. I can see it’s important. But I just don’t know where to start.”
Joel leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “You’ve already started. Now we just have to keep refining,” he told her. “So, why don’t we talk about finding out what really motivates them?”
Molly shrugged again. “Okay,” she said flatly.
Joel took that as a sign to continue. ”Alright, so let’s take Pieter. He’s an odd one. He’s not a soldier. He doesn’t do this for the pride. Or for justice. But he does care about his team. What do you think he struggles with most, though?”
Molly wracked her brains. Her eyes fell on the rim of her mocha cup. “Not gambling?” she guessed.
Joel shook his head. “No. The gambling was a symptom. His biggest challenge is being able to connect and bond with people.”
Molly frowned again, and moved her gaze forward to the wooden table, still not looking at him. “How do you know that?”
Joel tilted his head. “You remember when we had that post-op pizza fest, where you announced Maya was joining the team?”
Molly nodded.
Joel sat back in the chair and crossed his legs in a four shape. “You remember how Pieter lit up when Sean ruffled him, and bear hugged him?”
Molly took a sip of mocha. “Yeah, vaguely,” she said after swallowing.
“Well,” Joel continued slowly, “that was a breakthrough moment for Pieter. He suddenly felt accepted.” He tried to catch Molly’s eye. “Haven’t you noticed how since then, he’s been hanging out with the others more, and coming out of his shell?”
Molly glanced up at Joel. “Yeah, he’s become more of a smart arse too!”
Joel grinned. “Exactly. Cuz he’s comfortable with the team now. He feels accepted, like he can be himself.”
Molly started to smile a little. “I see. That’s… great.” Her eyes developed a distant look for a moment. “So, how does that help me manage him?”
Joel nodded his head and started waving his hands in explanation. “What it means is that he craves connection. So your job as his leader is to make sure he finds opportunities to keep developing that. That’s why on the training exercises, I keep pairing him with either Paige or Brock. They’ve bonded already – so I keep giving them the opportunity to make that bond deeper. Eventually, he’ll start naturally spending time with the others, too… But to force him out of his comfort zone before he feels ready to, will just keep him struggling and feeling like an outsider.”
Molly pushed her mocha cup forward and let her head hit her arms in front of her. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to do this voodoo you do,” she exclaimed.
Joel put a hand on her arm. “It’s okay. You’ll get it. It just takes time. And practice. How about you have a conversation with Maya next, and see if you can work out what’s important to her? You know – what she hopes to get out of being on the team. What she wants to do with her life. That kind of thing.”
Molly lifted her head, stray hairs flopping over her face and into her eyes. “Yeah. I can do that. I guess.”
Joel took a breath. “Good. That’s the next thing then.” He stood up. “Okay, we’re due in training in a couple of hours, and I have some case files to go through. See you down there?”
Molly had put her head back into her arms. “Yeah…” she said, muffled through the table and sweatshirt arms.
Joel shook his head, and tucked his chair back under the table. He patted her head gently. “It’ll be okay. Promise.”
He left.
Molly?
Yeah?
You have a meeting with the General in ten minutes.
Oh, shit. Right.
Molly lifted her head and pulled her mocha closer. She examined the contents of the cup, her nose wrinkled.
What the fuck is wrong with this mocha, Oz?
I don’t know. Take another sip.
Molly took another sip. She paused.
Oz?
Yeah?
What’s up with it?
Erm. You might not want to drink the rest.
Why not?
You don’t need to know. Just throw it out.
Why?
It’s not good. Just throw it.
Molly’s head hit the desk again, in exhaustion and exasperation.
Bloody hell. Just shoot me now…
FROM MICHAEL >>> MY TURN!
So, I’ve been saving little snippets of my conversations with Ellie because … Well because I would forget otherwise. If I forget, then she has the better memory and my Author Notes don’t truly express my version of the truth.
Which, you know, is the right version.
Here is one from my vault:
Terry Henry Walton Short Story
Wednesday’s Short Story today – in honor of July 4th, U.S. Independence Day.
The Forsaken called Joseph
1775 – John Joseph Dixon
“A good morning to you, Mister Purdie!” Joseph called happily, tamping his pipe as he stood outside the small building where the printing business was located. As usual, John Joseph Dixon was covered head to tie with a wide-brimmed hat, always shielding his face from the sun. He wore the most stylish gloves, because he was an adherent of modern fashion and flaunted his London contacts when packages addressed to him arrived on the latest ship.
“And a fine morning it is, Mister Dixon,” Alexander Purdie replied before looking up and down the dusty street in front of his shop.
“We’ll be meeting at Charlton’s Coffeehouse to discuss important matters, ‘round eleven. I trust you’ll come.” Alexander Purdie was not a large man, but he was of sturdy frame. One of his tasks was to carry bundles of blank print and barrels of ink from carriage to shop. From recorder to journalist to printer to work hand, he did it all. He impressed the ink onto the blank page to share the latest news of the era, news carefully worded to cultivate attitudes and grow the disdain for British rule.
“Charlton’s Coffeehouse? Was only last night I was in Charlton’s Tavern. Methinks it is one and the same, kind sir,” Joseph jousted. Smile lines wrinkled around Purdie’s eyes as he laughed. His cheeks turned brighter red. He was an older man, a widower with grown sons. His printing business had recently been appointed the public printer with the responsibility to print the laws of the Virginia colony. He was proud of that contract, even though his rival Rynd had to die before the honor was bestowed on Purdie.
“You are right, of course,” Purdie replied. “A well-educated man interprets what he sees as his reality versus what he is told to believe. Ever since that stamp tax debacle of sixty-seven, coffeehouses have received such bad press.”
“Nicely stated, my friend,” Joseph replied, using a nail to tamp his tobacco as he dragged hard on his pipe to keep it lit.
To no avail. “Damn. The new crop smells like heaven, but it is not quite ready. Last year’s leaf is failing me,” Joseph complained. Turning his pipe over and tamping it against the heel of his boot, to dump the smoldering ash on the ground.
“I don’t have anything this morning, but tomorrow I’ll need your help, Mister Dixon. Thank you for selling me your share of the business and for your continued help. I haven’t been the same since Mary passed. William has come of age, but he doesn’t love the work. Not like you or I. Regardless, we are in good places, my friend, are we not?”
“I could not agree more, Mister Purdie. It is best for all. Tomorrow at nine, then?” Joseph asked.
“Eight! We will have much to print.” Purdie offered his hand and Joseph took it, shaking warmly, but with far less than his full strength.
Joseph remained on the Duke of Gloucester Street as Purdie returned to his shop.
The hunger burned within. Joseph’s secret was dark and tugged at the edges of his mind.
All the time. He fought with it, but knew it would not be long before he had to feed.
Blood was the only answer.
Joseph shivered. There had been quite the stir in Williamsburg the last time he fed on a calf too close to town. Word traveled quickly by way of too many wagging tongues.
Those upstarts who ran Pasteur and Galt apothecary shop knew that the calf’s death had not been natural. They didn’t believe in witches and searched hard for an alternate answer. While the town’s leaders crossed themselves, the apothecaries had rolled up their sleeves and gone to work, studying the facts without making suppositions.
They learned that the calf’s blood had been drained, even finding the marks where Joseph’s extended canines had found the jugular.
But the leadership was quickly distracted by the churn of events, the inflammatory words of the young rebellion. The speeches and letters of Jefferson, Monroe, Henry, and Lafayette. Two months had passed since Patrick Henry addressed the Second Virginia Convention in Richmond, where they had met because it hadn’t been safe in the capital of Williamsburg. Joseph had gone and watched. They’d met in a church and talked, endlessly they talked, but called for action. Patrick Henry was like a caged animal, ready to be released into the wild. He said what he had to say, finally, and then they returned to their communities and their homes.
Henry’s words resonated with Joseph and he felt their power. They reflected his own internal struggle. He remembered the speech well…
“They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations; and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable²and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.
“It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace²but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!”
Joseph knew that he would forever be a prisoner within his own body, afraid to die, while being afraid to live. It was his cursed life for him to make the most of.
He chose a direction and followed it, the road out of town, toward the coast. He walked briskly and when out of sight of the townspeople, he started to run, far faster than any human should have. He slowed when he felt them ahead.
British military, coming to join the garrison in Williamsburg.
He dodged off the road, finding a place to hide, and he waited.
When they passed, he saw in their minds that soon they would stop, rest before entering Williamsburg. He followed them, quietly, as the silent predator he had become.
They stopped and sat by the side of the road.
“I need a crap,” one of them told his fellows, to their catcalls and laughter. He ventured into the woods, finding a secluded spot to take care of business. He leaned his musket against a tree, hanging his harness from it. He unbuttoned his red jacket, folding it and setting it respectfully on the ground. The soldier undid his trousers and started pulling them down when Joseph struck.
The Forsaken gripped the man’s chin and viciously yanked it backward until the neck bones strained, threatening to break. He bit deeply and drank fully while the man flailed, unable to scream.
When Joseph was done, he gagged at the thought of what he’d done, but reveled in the power it gave him. He looked at his victim. A soldier, with his pants around his ankles. The indignity of it and a horrible way to die.
Joseph leaned the man against the tree, pulled some nearby nightshade from the ground and stuffed it in the man’s mouth. The apothecaries would not be fooled as they knew what poisoning looked like. But it was the best Joseph had at the moment.
The Forsaken headed deeper into the woods taking the long way back to town. He wanted to meet with the good people at the so-called coffeehouse.
He could use a fresh cup. Joseph hoped that Thomas Jefferson would be there. The redhead had a way with words that never failed to make Joseph marvel. He enjoyed their spirited discussions.
“Give me liberty or give me death,” Joseph told the silence of the woods’ darkness. “I shall have neither, but maybe you can, good people of Virginia.”
Read all of Patrick Henry’s speech here: http://www.history.org/almanack/life/politics/giveme.cfm
Learn more about Craig Martelle and his other projects at http://www.craigmartelle.com
Born into Flames – Snippet 1
First snippet from Born into Flames!
Born into Flames is the fifth book in the Reclaiming Honor series by Justin Sloan and Michael Anderle. You can find books 1-4 in the series on Amazon.
From Justin:
Just a real quick one today, but I’m going to keep the snippets coming fast! This is the 5th Reclaiming Honor book, but you might be wondering why the cover looks different. Well, we’re going for something new! The plan is to redo earlier ones too, but I think we’ll start with this and the next.
Story wise, what’s happening here? The last book left off with these two ladies heading north, so here you go 🙂 And as you know, they were going to confront pirates. (Hence the cover. You’ll see).
UNEDITED
The Eastern Coast, Former Canada
Valerie dressed, almost failing to notice the pirate blimp passing in the distance as she glanced back at Robin stepping out of the river. Moonlight cast shadows across the younger woman’s bare skin, shimmering in the droplets of water as they trickled down her breasts and thighs.
Had the blimp gone unnoticed, would Robin have not seen Valerie staring? Valerie bit her lip and turned away, embarrassed to be caught staring, and then froze as a different type of excitement took hold—there, on the horizon and traveling northeast, a dark shape moved slowly along the coastline. There was no doubt it was a blimp, and if it was up here, there was very little doubt that it was operated by pirates.
“It’s the wrong way,” Robin said, stepping up beside Valerie and picking up her clothes. She scrunched her nose and glanced back at the water.
“We don’t have time to wash them, too,” Valerie said, staring after the blimp, but very aware of the pale, nude form of Robin beside her.
“But we want to be heading inland.”
Robin pulled her shirt on with some difficulty as the fabric clung to her wet skin, so Valerie turned to her and helped. When the shirt moved down past Robin’s face, the two stood staring into each other’s eyes.
“You… looked like you needed help.” Valerie realized her hands were still holding the shirt, and that the insides of her hands were touching warm, smooth skin.
“My pants, please?” Robin’s expression was somewhere between annoyed and amused.
Valerie sighed, wondering what was coming over her, and turned to pick up the black pants. Kneeling, she turned to offer her friend the pants, only then realizing what an awkward position this was. She quickly stood and looked away. She thought it odd that a vampire should ever blush, but here she was, blushing like a ripe tomato about to burst.
“I’m just gonna be blunt here,” Robin started.
“When’s that not been the case?”
Robin laughed. “Someone takes your family away and forces you to become a vampire and assassin, you stop worrying about beating around the bush. And on the topic of bush…”
“My God, I was seriously just handing you your pants.” Valerie said with a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to look.”
“Yes, you did.”
Hmmm. Maybe that was true. Shit, everything was so confusing. She pursed her lips and glanced over her shoulder at the young woman. “Is there a point to this, or can we get back to pursuing the damn pirates so we can tear their throats out?”
Robin shrugged. “I figure if there’s something here that might distract you, we need to be clear about it.”
“I’m not distracted.” Fuck, she was distracted, she realized as the words left her mouth. She looked back at the blimp disappearing over the horizon and frowned. When she turned back to Robin, the woman had turned away and was pulling her pants up, the contrast between the moonlight on her pale rear and the dark pants made Valerie stare again, and then shake her head to clear it. “Okay, I’m totally distracted. I mean, but isn’t that good? We’ve been walking and walking, and if I don’t have something else to think about besides another day walking, or watching those fucking pebbles and the orange dirt, I’ll rip out my own damn throat.”
Robin pulled her pants up the rest of the way, zipped them, and then turned to Valerie with a smile. “Good. At least that’s out there. Now, I’m freezing and wet, and not in that special way right now, because we just saw a pirate blimp, right? So, let’s get on it.”
Valerie stared, dumbfounded, as Robin started walking. She was so used to being the one that called the shots, or used to Sandra making plays but in a way that still made her feel in control, that this was a completely new experience. Jackson had been a leader, but there had always been a hint of something in his eyes that reminded her he was an unaltered human while she was a vampire.
Here was a young woman calling the shots and telling it like it is, and Valerie found herself enjoying it.
She caught up with Robin and decided to join her in focusing on the pirates and not the other thoughts that, even with this new distraction, she couldn’t seem to keep down.
“And Toro?” Valerie asked.
“We have no idea where it really is, except somewhere north of the lakes.” Robin gestured to their left where, through the darkness, they could make out vast stretches of land that, even with their vampire eyesight, seemed to stretch on forever. “As you said when we took off, we wouldn’t have a clue where to start.”
“So, we take them down along the coast, get our answers, and then move inland.” Valerie waited for the younger woman to nod in agreement, then added, “Great. I’m glad you’re seeing it my way.”
Robin sighed. “I don’t like it, but it makes sense.”
Valerie nodded. She had an obligation to the people of Old Manhattan, and that didn’t include wandering the areas of what was once Canada, searching randomly. She needed to stop the pirates from interrupting trade between Europe and Old Manhattan and had sworn to help Robin track down the slavers that had taken her parents. If they were lucky, the parents would be there waiting… But Valerie was doing her best not to get her hopes up.
Find out more about Justin Sloan and his other books at http://www.justinsloanauthor.com