In a small New England town, three men, each facing unthinkable horrors, must rely on their friendship to destroy an evil beyond imagination.
Blurb
Four men are about to discover things are definitely not what they seem…including themselves. Declan Makavoy, small town farmer and single father, finds out it’s not just his thumb that’s green. Ivan Soresceau, a local reporter, who always plays with fire in life and love, is about to discover what it means to be burned. Chester Silberglocke, the ailing but sage chiropractor, finds his death only the beginning of an atmospheric afterlife. Vinny Pirelli, the local swimming champ may make waves inside and outside the pool but has no idea he is the last piece in a dangerous and life-changing puzzle. Seduction and unearthly occurrences are only the beginning in what proves to be a race against time as Declan, Ivan, Chester, and Vinny are pitted against a dark force beyond imagination, in the ultimate battle of good versus evil.
Excerpt
The wind carried the unpleasant smell of decay. In the heat of summer, the odor is nectar sweet, but in autumn, decay is unexpected. In the summer, it could be tomatoes left too long on the vine, fresh roadkill or sewage wafting up from the dank sidewalk grates. Autumn chilled the stench, offered it bite and acid. The hair on my neck stood on end. I dug my hands deeper into my pockets.
Coming out of the tree-lined path leading to the fields reminded me of emerging from a dream. Overwrought and graphic, like an illustration in a bad comic, the scene unfolded block-by-block, piece-by-piece. The fields were barren, except where remains of gourds and pumpkins jutted from the earth like fevered skulls, things emerging to the cold dreary light. The distant pine trees lined the border of my property like sentries sent from a general to contain the scene. Beyond the trees, the forest appeared a black mass; empty and full at the same time. Perhaps Adam’s body—or Adam himself—waited, hidden in the woods.
They hadn’t found a body.
Hadn’t found…
A new but not unfamiliar wave of pain welled within my chest so I thought I’d burst. Adam was dead. Dead…How could he be…?
Chester turned toward me, his eyes wide. He pointed.
Antonia sat, facing him. She’d been playing house or school with her gourd-squash students. Her singsong contrasted with the fouled air, unnerving me.
Behind her, centered in the field, something either unaware or unconcerned with our presence was consuming the remaining pumpkins.
Some thing.
“Declan,” Chester breathed, “stay still.”
The stench coming from the field hit like a ton of putrid bricks.
“Get her.” I heaved, trying to breathe through the stink. “I have to get her.”
Chester restrained me with more strength than I thought he possessed. “She must stay still.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
Just then a huge crow dove and we watched as the creature reached with a massive clawed paw, grabbed the bird and crushed it. It then stuffed the bird into its mouth and made horrific bone-sucking sounds of pleasure.
Antonia smiled and called, “Daddy, have you seen the goblin?”
About the Author
Xavier Axelson is a writer and columnist living in Los Angeles. Axelson’s work has been featured in various erotic and horror anthologies including Best Gay Erotica 2016 Volume 2, Best Gay Erotica 2015.
Longer written works include “The Incident”, “Dutch’s Boy”, “The Birches”, “Earthly Concerns”, “Velvet,” and “Lily”.
M.D. Neu has a new gay paranormal book out: Volaria. And there's a giveaway.
Humans are no longer alone; they have been joined by Arcanes, Lycans, and Vampires. It’s been over a hundred years since the Earth went through The Shift. Where once almost eight billion humans lived, the population now holds at four billion. But that wasn’t the only change.
No one anticipated the branching of human DNA to produce new species of humans. Arcanes, Lycans, and Vampires are hidden throughout the genome, awaiting puberty before they manifest distinctly unhuman abilities. Finally, the new species of man were welcomed. No longer studied or treated as outcasts by most. People accepted these new humans and they integrated into society, albeit not easily. This allowed the UN Government to focus on colonizing space, in order to secure a future for all.
Risks remain however, permitting a vampire to feed from you can cause shared memories. Tobin Corsian took such a risk. He resides in a newly reopened district of San Jose, California, where his family’s old home stood. He lives there with his friend Mikel, a Lycan, and his dog Begger. Instead of making his mandatory monthly blood donation at the government blood bank for the vampire community, Tobin decides, with the help of his therapist, to visit Biter, a vampire spa.
The spa allows vampires to feed from humans directly while providing spa and sexual services, granting the donor a three-month reprieve from their required donations. Tobin’s encounter at Biter opens a window to his past and an experience he had as a child on the moon. Questions abound as he tries to unravel his past and make sense of his life.
Warnings: This is a dark tale and does not have a Happy Ending, It's not a bad ending, just not a happy ending.
“Empty. Dark.” Malifo exhaled. His eyes narrowed as he continued to glance out at what space offered. Of course, space had a beauty too, and on the rare occasions when he would go off to see the Earth rise, the views were always lovely. Unmatched by anything else he had seen in his long life. But no matter what, the moon wasn’t home. Home, his proper home, was out there on a world filled with corruption, bigotry, hatred, and pain, a world in all his years, despite all their advances, had never changed.
A world, part of him, still longed for.
Images of the days of the pandemic, what they called The Shift now, his parents, their home. Everything he knew. Played out like a movie. Being taken away from his family, studied, tested, everything the scientists and doctors threw at him to try to explain what happened to him and the others. Try to heal him… fix him.
But, nothing.
They came up with medical terms and scientific names once they learned they couldn’t stop the changes, or cure The Shift, but for the others of the first generation, this acceptance came too late. All their faces flashed through his memories. Images he would never forget, each of his friends, those changing, there one day and gone the next, never to be heard from, or seen, again until he was all by himself.
The glass he held in his hand shattered.
“Fuck.” Malifo barked.
He bent down and picked up the broken pieces before the auto floor cleaner rushed over to tidy up his mess. He remembered loving all this new technology back when he was young… He stood, making his way to the bathroom and dropping the pieces of his glass into the recycler. Exhaling, he dusted off his hands and made his way into his office.
He glanced out at the gardens, the lawn, the trees, and the rose bushes, all transplanted here from Earth when he and the others founded Volaria. They had such high hopes, but the one import from Earth coming with them was their own corruption. He caught sight of his guards patrolling the outside area. A frown pulled at his lips.
Just like Earth.
The doors to his chamber opened.
He dusted off his shirtsleeves and watched as Qunitx and Daxtim entered, dragging a body.
Malifo sniffed the air, human… no arcane… female. Was this the one they were looking for?
Soja Nguyen, Marval’s former lackey.
“What do you have for me?” Malifo glided across the room, meeting his people.
“This little one has been snooping around where they don’t belong.” Quintx released the arm of the woman they held. “Their chip says they are working for the arcane guild here on the moon, but we know their cover is bullshit.” Quintx spat the words out. Their harsh tone assaulted the quiet of Malifo’s office. “She’s been making inquiries into all of us and Volaria.”
“Hmm.” Malifo rubbed his clean-shaven chin.
“We couldn’t move until she was stupid enough to come here where the constable doesn’t have eyes, then we nabbed her.” Daxtim, their voice was softer, more welcoming, making them more deadly in Malifo’s opinion.
“So, what you’re telling me is we captured this little magic user legally, so there won’t be any trouble with the UN and their tools in the guild?” Malifo’s eyes narrowed on both Quintx and Daxtim, waiting for an answer. They were two of his most trusted. But still they were Gen Threes and Gen Fours, so young and eager; useful, but occasionally sloppy. Still, he valued them both and would be lost without them.
“The guild won’t be an issue, but the Constable… the laws around trespassing are getting tricky.” Daxtim’s lips pursed.
“We transferred everything we have on her to your private net.” Quintx’s words blustered.
“I still can’t believe you use that antique.” Daxtim quipped, glancing at Malifo’s desk.
The desk may be an antique as well, according to Daxtim. Late twentieth century, the desk belonged to his grandfather. His father took the piece of furniture after his papa died. He remembered sitting off to the side sometimes when his dad was on a video conference for his work.
Malifo walked to his desk and picked up his tablet. “Old? Yes.” He scanned through the files once they were uploaded, “But this antique isn’t monitored and there are few people outside of museum technicians who can access the data when properly secured.” He ran his fingers over the PDFs and Word Documents. This kind of file storage was long since dead, but he insisted on using the device. Why change? Because the technology had been outdated? Malifo didn’t see anything wrong with the technology, only the age and speed. And maybe being out of place here on the moon. Kind of like him, in a way. After reviewing the information, he placed the tablet down on his desk next to his laptop circa the 2020s.
“Sometimes the old ways are the best ways.” Malifo sailed back to his colleagues. “Take the silencers and restraints off her.” He instructed and pulled over a chair to have a seat in front of his prey.
He waited for Quintx and Daxtim to remove all but a few of the restraints and he was pleased to see they left the magic neutralization threads on. There would be no spell casting from this one.
Daxtim shook the woman, not enough to harm her, but enough to help her come to. The woman in front of him stirred. Her eyes fluttered as her head moved side-to-side.
“Ah, there you are.” He reached out and lifted her chin as she came around.
“What is this?” Her voice was groggy and cracked. “Where am I?”
“This is my home. You came here unwelcomed. Trespassing.” Malifo spoke as if he read these words from a script, but put no life into them.
The woman blinked several times. She glanced to either side of her. She tried to move.
Malifo waited.
The woman struggled for a few more minutes, maybe longer. Malifo found time was something not fully relative to him, but still to others younger than him. The older he got, the fewer matters like time seemed to bother him. So he waited.
Finally, she spoke. “What have you done to me?”
He nodded. She now understood. “Well, for starters, we blocked your access to magic. We also have your restrained so you can’t move, and if my companions did their job.” He spared a glance at Quintx and Daxtim. “They removed and destroyed your ear link to the data center.”
They nodded. She struggled, but Quintx and Daxtim held her firm.
“Also, we’ve deleted your accounts.” He sat back, letting go of her chin. “Unfortunately, you will have an accident on your way to Mars.”
She thrashed about at this news.
As expected.
“My dear, there is no reason to struggle. You did this to yourself.” He crossed his left foot over his right. “Well, you and your people. You are nosing around in affairs not concerning you.”
“I don’t know what–”
“Don’t you ever lie to me!” Malifo shouted. “I know lies.” He raised a hand. “I’ve been lied to longer than you, your parents, and your grandparents have been alive.” He stopped, took several breaths, forcing himself to calm.
Relax.
“What are you going to do?” The woman asked.
“You’ve given me and my friends no choice.” He pointed towards his people.
Quintx and Daxtim both laughed. He noted Quintx licking their lips, ready for a fresh meal.
Children.
“You can’t. I can help you.” The young woman pleaded as they tugged their arms, trying to break from the grip. “You’re being lied to. The truth is being hidden from you.”
This peaked Malifo’s interest. He wondered what a PhD in arcane magic might do for him, assuming he can trust her. Granted, he already had several arcanes working for him, not really trusting them, but still they served an important purpose. Along with humans and lycans. So she had nothing to offer him.
But… maybe… no.
People were always desperate when they were pleading for their lives. The begging was almost sad. A memory of his younger self, strapped down to a bed, the cries of those like him long since silenced. He blubbered, he pleaded for his parents; he pleaded for someone to help him. Malifo promised all manner of things only a child promises. He shook the image from his mind. Was he any better than those people from his past? He supposed not.
Still, he wouldn’t torture her. He had the ability to make her passing pleasant and pain free and despite what happened to him, he would never put another through any kind of pain, if pain can be avoided and not warranted.
“Is this what Zeberly would have wanted?” She shouted.
The chair Malifo sat in all but flew to the wall. An enormous crash behind him. The sound pushed instant feelings of regret to the pit of his stomach. “Never mention that name.” Malifo yelped. “You don’t know what he would have wanted. None of us do, because he was taken from us by people like you! You know nothing of him.”
“What about the other one?” She begged.
This made Malifo laugh. He shook his head. “Your information, my dear, is outdated. There is no one else, there were only two and with Zeberly’s death, the link ended.”
“You’re wrong.” The woman pleaded. “I received word–”
“Enough of this.” Malifo commanded and turned his back on the woman. “What else do you have to say? Or are you ready to face the inevitable?”
“I have your name.”
Malifo laughed. “Everyone has my name.”
“Your actual name.” Soja countered. She licked her lips. “Martin Li—”
“Enough!” Malifo bellowed, walking over and stuffing the silencer back over her mouth. “Take Soja to be prepared for her draining.”
Quintx and Daxtim shared a look, but said nothing to Malifo.
If they want to live, they will say nothing about the truths Soja spoke.
Author Bio
M.D. Neu is an international award-winning inclusive queer Fiction Writer with a love for writing and travel. Living in the heart of Silicon Valley (San Jose, California) and growing up around technology, he’s always been fascinated with what could be. Specifically drawn to Science Fiction and Paranormal television and novels, M.D. Neu was inspired by the great Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, Stephen King, Alice Walker, Alfred Hitchcock, Harvey Fierstein, Anne Rice, and Kim Stanley Robinson. An odd combination, but one that has influenced his writing.
Growing up in an accepting family as a gay man he always wondered why there were never stories reflecting who he was. Constantly surrounded by characters that only reflected heterosexual society, M.D. Neu decided he wanted to change that. So, he took to writing, wanting to tell good stories that reflected our diverse world.
When M.D. Neu isn’t writing, he works for a non-profit and travels with his biggest supporter and his harshest critic, Eric his husband of twenty plus years.
Authors and Publishers: Aurora Crane and Briar Kearney
Cover Artist: Cormar Covers
Release Date: September 1, 2022
Genre: Dark Contemporary MMM Romance
Tropes: Forbidden love, polyamory romance (MMM), established couple
Themes: Good men doing bad things, brutal side of justice, love and duty
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 98 000 words
It is a standalone story for now as it is part of a collaboration with several other authors called “Virtuous Sinners.” It will become part of a trilogy to be released next year once the collection has ended in three months.
A federal prosecutor with a three-digit body count, his clever and adoring husband, and the FBI Special Agent who got too close.
Blurb
A federal prosecutor with a three-digit body count, his clever and adoring husband, and the FBI Special Agent who got too close.
Led by Lady Justice, Justin Reynolds spills the blood of the unworthy with his husband Ace at his side. Together, they’re a well-honed symbiote with the potential to bring the world to its knees. Neither of them are prepared for the man who brings them to theirs.
FBI Agent Maddox Doherty has dedicated himself to getting the job done, sacrificing everything else, especially his personal life. Sent to investigate a string of murders, he’s prepared for anything… except the sparks that fly between him and the married couple.
An undeniable chemistry draws Maddox deeper into Justin and Ace’s web, and soon he finds himself losing sight of the line he’s built his life and career around. But how far is too far and what happens when the darkness swallows him whole?
Day of Judgment is an 80, 000-word dark MMM romance featuring morally grey characters and violence. It also includes voyeurism, wax play, edging, bondage and mild BDSM themes. Reader’s discretion is advised.
Virtuous Sinners is a collection of gay romance stories that center on killers who are guided by a virtuous code. These dark novels are connected only by theme and can be read standalone.
The killer’s virtue in Day of Judgment: Justice
Excerpt
“He’s beautiful,” Ace murmured.
“He is,” Justin agreed. He gave Ace’s thumb one last lick before releasing him. Ace’s small smile as he picked his pastry up again made light swell in Justin’s heart. He would never be able to express how much he adored his husband, how much of the world he would be willing to burn down to keep him safe. Justin would move heaven and earth to keep that smile with him even if it cost the world.
“Imagine him on our sheets,” Ace said, leaning forward, his eyes deep and bright in the sunlight. “With ropes around his wrists. With wax across his chest, across his back, on his ass. Eyes closed, head back, mouth open.”
Justin shifted in his seat, his body responding to Ace’s sensual words. He rarely cared about who Ace chose to join them. They were there to get him off, a tool for Ace to use to give Justin the release, the peace he sought. They never took them into their private bedroom, never let them into their inner sanctum. This was the first time Ace had ever even mentioned it. Most surprising of all, Justin could see it. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell it.
“He watched and he wanted, Justin. It wouldn’t take much.” Ace’s voice got lower. “A simple invitation even.”
Justin shifted his gaze, finding Maddox watching them from the passenger seat of the car. He sipped his latte, maintaining eye contact. Maddox didn’t blink, didn’t look away. Ace was right. He would be glorious to play with, be absolutely magnificent spread out on their sheets with his dark hair against the white and those amber eyes lined with thick lashes.
Too bad he was a Fed. Justin was surprised by the pang of regret that vibrated in his chest. They could have had fun. “You know we can’t.”
Ace let out an annoyed breath. “Yeah. Should we go somewhere else, or are you done for the day?” he asked, tilting his head just a fraction, some of his hair falling into his face.
Justin licked his bottom lip, watching Maddox track it. He wished he were closer so he could see the way it changed the color of his eyes, see that amber melt with lust.
“I’m done,” he said to Ace. They’d toyed with the agents enough for one day. Tomorrow was a new day, with new possibilities. Ethan and Kit were still scouring names and records and information. Until they had some concrete targets for him—which he hoped was soon—he had nothing but time on his hands. And he intended to stick close to Ace. He dared anyone to try and get to him while Justin was with him. He would relish it, would enjoy removing them from the land of the living.
Ace stood and pulled his jacket from the back of his chair, draping it over his arm. “Well?”
Justin took his time rising from his own seat. “Fix my tie.”
“Your tie is fine,” Ace said, a smile playing on his lips.
“Is it? Are you sure?”
Ace laughed as he moved forward, taking hold of the perfectly done accessory. He flicked the clip that stopped the tie from moving and then ran his fingers down the silky material. There were multiple layers between those fingers and Justin’s skin, and he still responded like they were naked. His body knew what they felt like over every inch of him, and his response was pure instinct, anticipation of more, of the highest level of pleasure. It knew what came next.
Justin splayed his hand across Ace’s jaw, lifted his chin with a thumb. He looked straight at Maddox as he leaned down and pressed his lips against Ace’s. Ace opened beneath him with a moan, and Justin tightened his grip as he explored the sweet nectar within.
Lionel and Lucifer are drawn deeper into a murder case, but they are set on solving it together.
Just when Lionel’s love life has gone back to normal -- normal meaning the kinky Devil making his ownership known -- Lionel’s murder case gets stranger. Lionel’s birth father seems to have his hands in the mystery, and Lionel finds himself in the sights of Eris, goddess of discord.
Lucifer used to be a prime example of a powerful underworld deity with all the knowledge and skill to take care of a lover in the bedroom. But that was before Lucifer fell properly in love and won over his necromantic boyfriend, who also happens to be a demigod. Lionel’s innate magic, magical skill, and stubborn nature make it exceedingly difficult for Lucifer to be the alpha god he wants to be for Lionel.
Lucifer is set on finding a way to provide for the man he loves and to fulfill Lionel’s every desire. But before he can focus entirely on his necromancer, the two of them must solve the case, prevent primordial deities from being raised and destroying the world, and learn to communicate better. It’s what relationships and crime solving are all about.
The Devil’s body in front of mine, protecting me from a threat I didn’t quite understand, that was a new and uncomfortable feeling, and something I didn’t really care for. I tried getting a decent look at the deity that had teleported into Lucifer’s doorless office, but the Devil his own damn self kept pushing me back. It was so annoying when he was trying to be an alpha god.
“Will you cut it out, Beelzebug?” I grumbled, and Trony, in her pink tartan skirt and with her sword in hand, gave me an admiring look.
Nyx, the deity that had Lucifer so riled, chuckled and turned their milky, unseeing eyes on me. “You are a fierce one. Tiamat has said as much.”
And speak of the dragon mother, she appeared in the office as well, which was fine, apart from the fact that she wasn’t wearing any clothes. Awesome.
“What is going on here? Nyx, do you have to scare the children?” the dragon mother said and crossed her arms under her breasts. Not that I was paying any attention to her breasts, but it was sort of hard not to notice they existed. Why did all gods have trouble with clothing? Buttons and zippers really weren’t all that bad.
“Children?” Lucifer said and straightened before pulling me to his side and circling my waist with his arm in a proud <em>look, this is my boyfriend</em> kind of way. Apparently in his mind, the presence of the dragon mother lessened the threat level in his office.
“No one in this room was scared,” Metatron said and flashed her sword.
“What were you saying about Eris?” I asked the blind god… then realized looking at them wouldn’t be enough to cue them in on the fact I was speaking with them. “I mean, Nyx. You were saying about Eris?”
The sightless god turned to face me. “Eager as any human, aren’t you?” They smiled. “Or as the Devil dispensing deals.”
Tiamat clapped her hands. “If you have something to say about Eris, I am interested. I don’t appreciate her harassing poor, lovesick humans around the corner, but I think we can talk while also eating, can’t we?”
Metatron nodded. “I second that. The necromancer has been turning his nose up at my food since his return from Scotland, and he looks worse for wear.”
“I haven’t!” I said. “And I don’t! It’s just been a busy few days, and there were corpses.”
“Humans are quite frail and need regular nourishment, even those who are only partially so,” Nyx said, and they and the dragon mother nodded knowingly.
Lucifer glowered at the other god. “I know best what my boyfriend needs,” he said, but I could tell I was in for eating my breakfast out of the Devil’s hands while sitting in his lap.
* * *
Lucifer was indeed behaving like a total alpha god, and it reminded me that I should call Persephone and give her an update, but that would mean looking at my phone and seeing whatever social media was now making of the sharkomancer incident. Maybe I should still tell her about the minotaur… but what would I even tell her about that? It was confusing, the way I felt or should feel about Minos, and I was actually glad to be dealing with something else right about now.
The dragon mother, Nyx, and Lucifer and I teleported to the already set dining room table, and I tried to grab a chair, but Lucifer wouldn’t let me go. He pulled me close and tilted my chin up.
“How about I take you to Sephy’s and Hades’ place? It’s almost the weekend anyway, and you trained Marc Deacon well. I am sure he can handle things here while you relax a little,” Lucifer said. He was doing his best at looking charming, dashing, someone you didn’t want to say no to. His kitty-cat hair was catching the light just so.
In one word, he was a transparent, overprotective alpha god, and he was trying to lull me into damseling myself, or whatever you’d call it. “You are not benching me,” I said. “I will raise the minotaur, even if it’s --” If it was what? A way for me to get back at him? To make sure he was very and truly dead? I shook my head. “I’ll raise him. I can do my fucking job, whether you believe that or not, Beelzebug.”
Lucifer’s face soured, but then he kissed my forehead. “I know you can, my love, but you don’t have to.”
“What are you saying about raising the minotaur?” Tiamat said. She had put on a bathrobe, just a thin one that hugged her every curve and still revealed a lot, but it was better than nothing. Which was the alternative.
Lucifer hugged me close. “He was apparently murdered in his cell at the human prison not too long ago. Christine just called with the news.”
“The minotaur,” Nyx said, and I wiggled out of Lucifer’s hold and even managed to sit in my own chair instead of the Devil’s lap. My goals had shifted over the past few months, and today, this was an achievement, and I knew it. “He was a powerful human sorcerer,” the blind god went on. They used their cane to find a chair opposite the dragon mother. Lucifer moved his chair at the head of the table to the left, toward my own, until he was sitting right next to me.
“You knew him?” I asked. “How did you know the minotaur?”
Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter or TikTok, and subscribe to her newsletter!
Haunted by her mother’s death, sixteen-year-old Penny sleepwalks by night. By day, she peddles bootleg vodka to rich kids looking for kicks on the wrong side of Brooklyn Bridge, a place reeling in total economic meltdown, strict curfew laws, and violent disarray.
Penny’s chance meeting with Quinn, a rabble-rouser dabbling in counterculture graffiti, sets in motion a deep love affair and the start of a seemingly impossible revolution. Inspired by a childhood memory, the two of them craft powerful messages hidden in the folds of hundreds of paper airplanes. They plan to launch them from the rooftops of derelict buildings even as the unforgiving militia hunts them from below.
Will hope take flight in a crumbling world, or will their efforts devastate them all?
Chapter One The streetlights that ran the length of Brooklyn Bridge had long since been defunct, and the nights had become so black even the city in the distance gave nothing away. A scattering of blocks in shadow, like a once-prized Lego set, accumulating dust atop the bookshelf. Occasionally, a spotlight broke from a cloud and ran the gauntlet of alleys and nooks before disappearing from whence it came.
Penny perched precariously on the edge of the bridge gazing across the bay, waiting for her mind to sway back into the present and catch her up on the events of the night. An inhale of breath, her own, sharp and cold, jump-started her brain. The brick in her hand, nuggety and rough, was tied in the middle with twine. Cheap and thin. She fingered it with shivering hands and followed its coil as it snaked around her leg and ended in a bow at the ankle.
The sleepwalking had been escalating in distance and danger over the last few weeks. Where she had once woken in the lobby of her apartment building, sleepy-eyed and drowsy, she now found herself miles from home with knives in hand and blood on her knees. Her present predicament, though, was a new and dark incarnation of her nightmares. To find herself harnessed to a ledge, with wobbly knees and the plight of a harrowing demise, chilled her to the bone. A blush of heat warmed her forehead, trickled down her cheeks, and spread like a fire in her belly. A tear rolled off the end of her nose, and regret overwhelmed her entire being.
She crouched, dropping the brick beside her. The knots, having been tied in a daze, were easy to untangle, and the pain in her fingers, riddled with cuts, was easy to ignore, given the circumstances.
Her breath broke the silence of the night and ushered in an orchestra of sounds that moments ago she had been unaware of. The waves lapped far below. A military chopper thundered in the distance. A footstep slapped the sidewalk. She sprang to her feet and scanned the walkway. Brick in hand. Weapon if necessary.
She heard the voice before she saw the person. Another footfall, a rush of breath.
“Hey,” said the shadow.
Penny jumped. Fear engaged.
The silhouette lifted its arms. “Don’t shoot; I’m harmless.”
Penny raised her brick as the shadow morphed into a human with a perfectly symmetrical face, framed by a mop of unruly hair. The girl was certainly not old enough to be a serial killer, possibly Penny’s age, maybe a year older. Seventeen, eighteen? Her face was kind, and the girl smiled in the darkness. Well, what passed for a smile in these times. How long had this girl been watching her; how much had she seen? Penny lowered her brick before spotting the shopping bag. Did the pretty girl have a severed head in there? She lifted the brick back up.
“You know it’s past curfew,” said the stranger. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“Protection.” Penny thrust it in her direction, satisfied only when the girl flinched. Not a serial killer after all. She dropped the brick, all the way down.
“Can I have it?”
“No,” said Penny, stupidly possessive. “Get your own brick.”
“I’m not going to kill you with it. I promise.”
There was that smile again.
“What do you want it for?” asked Penny.
The girl lifted her bag and jiggled it. Metal on metal, the sound of a broken bell. “Got some evidence I need to dispose of.”
Penny raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing sinister. Take a look.” The girl tossed the bag at Penny who stepped out of the way so it crashed to the ground. “Nice catch.”
“Wow. A comedian.” Penny hoped the girl registered her sarcasm.
“See,” the girl said, pointing to the spray paint cans that littered the bridge walk. “Not a threat.”
Penny rolled a paint can beneath her shoe. Pink-colored paint. Nothing sinister. “So you’re a vandal, then?”
“Of sorts, although I prefer the term campaigner of freedom.”
“Ha, good luck with that.” Penny handed over the brick despite her obvious disapproval.
The girl crouched at Penny’s feet, shoving the cans back in the bag. She placed the brick on top, tied the package fast, and walked to the edge of the bridge. “So, you’re one of those ‘resistance is futile’ types, then?” she asked.
“I sure am,” Penny said, following her.
“Good luck with that.” The girl grinned as she dropped the bag into the gloom below. Penny shivered as it fell, heard the impact, felt its pain, and when she lifted her eyes, her close physical proximity to the girl surprised her. She should be more careful.
“So you’re just going to pollute the Hudson with empty paint cans?” said Penny.
“Not usually, but I went on quite the bender tonight. If I get busted with these things, it’s lights out for me.”
“That sounds a bit dramatic.”
The girl laughed and offered Penny the palm of her hand. “I’m Quinn.”
Penny hesitated. She was determined to impress upon this girl two things. One, that she had manners enough to not leave this stranger hanging, and two, despite those manners, she was a reluctant participant in this introduction and would protest by way of the limpest handshake known to mankind.
“I’m Penny,” she said, finally accepting Quinn’s handshake.
An unmistakable bolt of electricity shot through Penny’s fingers, and the world spun, just for moment.
“Penny like the coin?” said Quinn.
“Sure. I guess.”
Quinn shook Penny’s hand, apparently unaffected by both the dead-fish salutation and the obvious warmth that emanated from their joined fingers. “Well, Penny like the coin, it’s nice to meet you.”
“I guess,” Penny repeated. “Considering you’re not a serial killer, it’s nice to meet you too.”
Quinn laughed. An authentic, untainted-by-the-crap-of-the-world guffaw.
Something like peace settled inside Penny. A tingle. Was this happiness? It had been so long she couldn’t even remember how it felt.
A rhythmic pulsing cut through the air, and Penny stiffened. A military chopper hovered somewhere beyond the fog. Stupid idiot. How had she been so careless? The peacemakers had no love for curfew breakers. If she and Quinn were caught, they’d be thrown into a displacement camp and processed for unruly behavior. Rumors of cruel and unusual punishments were rife in those places, the stuff of nightmares. The ripping off of fingernails, plucking out of eyes, scalping of heads. Yet the truth of it all was irrelevant. Gossip or not, Penny’s trick was simple enough—to not get caught and to never find out.
o jump on the couch, eat wiToni J Spencer is an avid daydreamer and eternal optimist. When she’s not encouraging her two children tth their fingers, or understand the power of using swear words in context, she writes. Toni has several award-winning short stories under her belt, and once the procrastinating is done and dusted, plans to turn most of them into novels.
Despite calling New Zealand home, Toni considers herself a citizen of the world and dreams about the day when she can once again stuff her backpack full of short-shorts and furry jackets and head out in search of adventure and friends unmet.
Origami War is Toni’s first published novel and was mostly written in the witching hour during a serious bout of insomnia. She figures she’ll have plenty of time to sleep when she is dead.
Alone and in London for the first time, Alex Anderson is being hunted by the darkness as the fates have seen fit to turn his dream holiday into his worst nightmare before he even steps foot out of the airport.
An archaic evil hungers for him and will stop at nothing to possess the twenty-two-year-old and the coveted secrets that have been hidden from Alex his whole life.
All that stands in their way is a two-and-half-thousand-year-old spartan Commander named Nikos and his fellow guardian sidekick Jin; a pink haired descendant of the goddess Hekate.
Nikos will move heaven and hell to protect Alex even if that means protecting him from himself.
When boy meets man sparks fly and an instant bond is felt, a connection that feels as old as the fabric of time. But Alex must first learn to trust Nikos and Jin while fighting his anxieties that have controlled his life if he has any hope of surviving what's to come.
The Last Son Of Venus is the first in the fast-paced LGBT fantasy romance series of the same name featuring queer male characters, high fantasy creatures, magic and the true gods of old. The Last Son of Venus will take you on a long multi-series journey to a well-deserved HEA. So come and join Alex and Nikos and see what the Fates have in store.
Excerpt
Bitter wind violated my exposed flesh, sending a deep chill to the very core of my bones. Mother had warned me that London was cold, but I thought she meant cold like Melbourne in winter, not winter in Antarctica. If it wasn't for the fact that my jumpers were all packed down at the very bottom, I would have stopped and added an extra layer of protection. But I was cold and feeling far too lazy to reorder my bag, so I went without. Yes, I was an idiot.
As per the map’s instructions, I turned right onto Gillingham Street. It was becoming really
hard to focus on the map because the streets were barely lit. I cursed myself inwardly that I didn't just buy a portable phone charger, but I would be sure to rectify my error first thing tomorrow. My goodness, this would be a lot smoother if I was using my phone's Google Maps. Anyway, what was done was done.
For a Saturday, there was very little nightlife, which I thought was odd considering what I knew about Londoners and drinking, although I have to say my knowledge on the subject was like ninety-five percent based on Geordie Shore reruns. But still, there was not a soul on the street.
I could feel my anxiety grow; it wasn't helped by the fact that some random man told me someone was trying to kill me—though he wasn't some random man, was he? He knew my name. I felt a shiver run up my arms; I didn't think I could feel any colder. Maybe I should have stayed and heard him out before running away...again, if I had, maybe he had a portable phone charger.
Looking back down at the map, I estimated I had maybe another six-minute walk ahead, although I wished I had just paid for the stupid cab fare, but I really couldn't justify the cost for, what, maybe four hundred metres. I walked further every day on my morning run.
The light flickered in the lamppost above. How strange. It flickered again, but this time, it didn't light back up. I was plunged into darkness as the rest of the streetlights also extinguished.
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP
My anxiety started to peak, and my instincts told me to get out of there fast. All of a sudden, I felt eyes on me. Shit shit shit. My pace quickened into a slight jog, my bag swinging heavy behind me.
Why did it feel like the approaching darkness was watching me? I looked up to the sky where once a moon sat giving light to the sky, but now it was gone, shrouded by darkness. I started to shake uncontrollably; I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or my anxiety. Both seemed to be at war for dominance over my body and mind.
A sound emerged through the darkness, muttered voices. I started to run, every fibre of my body telling me to do so. My flight response was fully active, I flew down the street, but the voices seemed to be gaining on me. They were now close enough to hear what it was they were chanting. "Consumptura est lux tenebris." They repeated it over and over.
I crossed the street in mere seconds, but was stopped from going further by a gate of iron. I turned to go around, but to the left of me, I found that the men were closing in on me. Looking to the right, they were doing the same yet only metres away.
Fuck fuck fuck, my only option was to jump the fence. It wasn't very tall, so I knew I could make short work of it. I put my hands on the spikes and pushed down, lifting my body. I swung my legs up and jumped down. The hem of my shirt got caught on a spike, lifting my shirt up, trapping my arms. "FUUUUCK!" I yelled, trying to fumble myself free. I was shaking so violently, I could barely unhook it, the process taking minutes rather than seconds.
It came loose just as the men closed in. It was then that I realised my duffle bag's strap must have also gotten caught on the spike as it lay broken just on the other side of the fence, but I could clearly see the men's robes of red now. I hadn't the time to retrieve it. I'd have to let it go and hope I found it later after I had made it to a police officer.
Even the darkness seemed to draw dimmer. How was that possible? Turning, I started to run, pushing past plants and shrubs, pulling my shirt back down as I ran.
Their chant suddenly changed, I could now hear their voices ringing in my head as if they were whispering right into my ears. "Arbores et plantae saxa animari, prohibere eum." Their chant had changed. It felt as if the trees were drawing closer, which couldn't be so.
Something grabbed my foot. I let out a scream as I fell to the ground hard. What was that? I looked around, but all I could see was grass. I must have tripped over a root or something, though I couldn't see one. Getting back on my feet, my left ankle felt swollen, and as I put pressure on it, I let out a loud scream. I hoped against hope that it was just twisted and not broken. I tried to run, but the pain was just too great.
CRASH. The gate lifted from the ground and flew into a tree. The robed men continued to follow me. FUCK.
"HELP! Someone, anyone, help me!" I shouted.
One of the men raised his hand at me, and my voice faltered. I tried to let out a scream, but my voice was gone. What in the name of Ursula the sea witch was this? All I could do was try limping away.
Roots lifted from the ground before my very eyes, spraying moss into the air, leaving the earth a maze of traps, clearly designed to stop my escape. What was I to do? I tried to hop over them, the pain forcing tears to fall from my eyes. But the pain didn't stop me. I continued to push myself, for my life clearly depended on it.
"Corrumpam vineam eius," shouted one of the robed men. Instantly, vines fell from the trees and launched themselves at me. I ducked and missed the first one, but the rest found their target, instantly forcing me to the ground, wrapping around me like dangerous pythons.
The roots curled up, pulling me to face the robed men, forcing me to watch as they approached. The men were dressed in robes of red. I could just make out a crucifix scar on one of the men's outstretched arms. Wrapped around their hands were what looked to be rosary beads, but something looked wrong. It seemed like the beads dug into their hands, drawing out a dark fluid.
The wind changed, and the smell of metallic ooze hit my sinuses, causing my nose to curl. That answered the question of what the fluid was: it was blood. I struggled with everything left in my body, but it was no use, the vines just grew tighter and tighter, almost to the point of breaking bone.
"Help me," I prayed inwardly. "Someone, please."
A man in the centre stepped forward chanting with the others, "Accipere auferat divina virtute." Something jabbed into me sharp like a needle, causing unimaginable pain to flow through me. I screamed and screamed, but no sound escaped me. Whatever it was it felt like it was crawling through my veins.
He continued forward towards me, chanting. Only a few feet away, I could now clearly make out his face that was hidden by a hood. He looked to be in his mid-fifties with a full white beard, long hooked nose, and beady black eyes. He kneeled beside me and raised his outstretched hand over my face. I tried to close my eyes, but they were forced open. The man squeezed his palm into the rosary beads, which I could now see were made of jagged barbed wire that cut into his flesh. As the man squeezed, blood fell like water droplets over my face. On impact with my flesh, it sizzled like acid; it smelled like it too. I was truly dead. My only thought was on my parents, hoping they would be able to get past my death. My vision started to fade to black. This was the end of me. My eyes finally closed. I had no strength anymore. Maybe death wouldn't be so bad? And with that thought, it all went silent.
BANG!
The earth reverberated. There was loud running, yelling, and what sounded like sandbags hitting a wall, but I couldn't open my eyes to see. They felt like they were welded shut.
"You must continue the chant!" shouted a voice that felt like spiders crying in my ears.
The chanting started again. "Accipere auferat—" But was cut off mid-sentence as what sounded like thunder struck the earth. I needed to run, move, get up, break the bonds holding me. My brain told me this, but it was as if I was buried alive.
Something dropped beside me. It radiated warmth. I wanted to lean into it. I tried to but failed. I wanted it closer. "Please come closer," I begged the universe, and by some grace, it did. I felt a hand on my cheek; it was warm to the touch. Who was this? What was this? Again, I tried to open my eyes but failed. I started to panic again. This couldn't be the end. My mind started to race. Mentally, I was thrashing back and forth, wishing my body to do the same. This feeling of disconnection was the scariest thing I had ever felt.
"By Zeus, Alex, gods fucking dammit, your lips are blue," growled a familiar voice. Was it the Adonis? It sounded like him, and for some unexplainable reason, I hoped it was him. I could feel his hands on me. Everywhere he touched, I felt warmth.
"Jin, we're going to need a recovery charm," he yelled at an unknown person.
"Babes, I am fucking busy if you didn't realise, you know, holding off the Priests of Bellum Sacrum," bit back an unknown, effeminate voice.
"Fuck it all to Hades, you couldn't have just come with me at the train station." The Adonis's voice turned gravelly. But I couldn't follow him at the train station because he was a stranger. I didn't know him; therefore, I couldn't trust him. But was he here now to save me? So maybe that meant I could trust him?
"Fuck it, we'll have to swap," called the Adonis back to the person he called Jin, I assumed.
No, don't leave me! He can not leave me. Don't take the warmth away. I'm so very cold. As if he could hear me, he assured, "Don't worry, Alex, I'll be back." Then he was gone. The coldness set back in, his warmth only a haunting memory.
Thunder struck the earth again; there were more screams of pain and terror. The smell of metallic ooze grew almost too strong to possibly bear. A thud beside me. Was it the Adonis? It couldn't be because this person didn't radiate warmth like he had. Was he friend or foe?
"Queen, don't even stress, okay, I'm here to help you, boo." It was that voice again; it was distinctly fem, but like fem male, not a fem female. I assumed it was Jin, but I really wished I could open my eyes and stop all the guesswork.
"Álysoi kaí desmá nýn spázete." I felt warmth all over my body. Suddenly, I felt weightless like I was flying in the air. The darkness began to fade as a white light came towards me. I tried to meet it halfway.
Light burst into my reality as my eyes flew open, temporarily blinding me as my eyes readjusted. A man who couldn't be any older than myself stood over me, his hair fairy-floss pink, kept neat and short on the side with a front fringe that covered the tops of his brows.
"Is he awake yet?" yelled the Adonis from somewhere just out of my field of view. "Yes, fuck, give me a second, Miss Bossy Tiger," snapped the pink-haired man. He turned and spoke to me, trying for a soothing voice, but came off very condescending.
"Hi, Alex, my name is Jin. I'm going to need you to stand up. Can you do that for me, dolls?" But wasn't I tied to the ground by vines?
"Jin, get him the fuck up now. We need to move!" said the Adonis, running back into view. "I'm trying," he responded.
"Then try harder."
Before I could process what was happening, one of the robed figures instantly appeared
behind the Adonis, bloodied dagger outstretched ready to strike, going for the killing blow. "NOOOOOOOO!" I screamed, sending out a blast of energy that felt like it came from my
very soul. I couldn't let the Adonis die.
Gusts of power forced the robed man into the air, flying back with a loud crunching sound
into a tree. The dagger burst into smoke. It took me a moment to realise what it was I had done. My body retracted inwardly, instantly forming a ball. What had I just done? I started to rock
back and forth, tears falling from my eyes.
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP
I was a freak, and I may have just killed someone. I needed my mother to tell me it would be okay, but she wasn't there, so I didn't know what to do. I needed to know I didn't just kill someone. "Shhhh, calm down, it will all be okay," said Jin softly.
But it wasn't going to be okay; nothing was. It would never be okay again. "Right, fuck this. Get the fuck up now, idiot, before you get us all killed," growled the Adonis.
I just looked at him, like was he kidding? Like really, was he kidding? The rudeness. I was
going through something. Instantly, my anxiety and grief turned to anger like a light switch. I was standing up, pointing my finger at him. "Who the hell do you think you are? Do not EVER talk to me like that again, do you understand?"
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly; the barest whisper of a smile ghosted his face. "That got you up, now didn't it?"
About the Author
Scottish Australian author Dion Marc lives and breathes queer art. Whether he is painting, writing, sewing or dancing naked in the moonlight he does it with pride. He is a practising Hellenistic polytheist who believes in healing the world one hug at a time and that drinking tea without a biscuit is a horrendous crime.
Dion has spent over eleven years working full time in film and television as a Makeup Artist, Hairdresser, Wig Maker and Costume Designer. For the last year Dion has been working on the award-winning theatrical shows Hamilton, Moulin Rouge and more recently full-time on Harry Potter and the Cursed Child as a hair and makeup artist.
