Writing

Half editing this monster (Allies & Enemies) in my spare time. I like this scene, but it’s most likely going to be cut because it doesn’t really serve a purpose. I just thought it was cool.

I was thinking I might turn it into a one-shot or the opening scene of someone else’s story. There’s gotta be other prisoners of these guys looking for a chance to shine, or at the very least reclaim their lives.

EXCERPT:
Rating: teen+ (language, description of gore)
*** = small spoiler for A&E removed.

He’d given up that life. He wasn’t that guy anymore. He’d made promises and commitments. But that was all in the past tense. He was in the moment, in the now, and there was the thunder red of rage-rage-rage burning across Vereint’s brain.

All this time, Warrick had been so great about following the rules. So why did he have to fuck up now?

Vereint had come back to an empty cabin, a TV still showing GNN and a note. Warrick had seen something and it reminded him of some unfinished Blue Ice business, so he’d gone off to handle it.

Vereint’s panic as he chased after Warrick had gradually turned to burning anger. Didn’t Warrick understand what putting himself in danger did to Vereint? The sense of helplessness and suffocating worry?

Vereint wanted to scream in Warrick’s face, but he knew he would probably end up on his knees begging him to never leave him again. And that patheticness only made him angrier. Never in his life had there been anyone to bring him so low as Warrick could.

By the time he reached the warehouse, he was mostly cool. Then he broke the lock and slid open the door.

Warrick was dead.

There was blood everywhere in a butterfly spray, and at the center the torn cocoon. Flesh splayed open in pink and white ridges of muscle and tendon. Eye sockets blackened and exposed amongst the brain matter. Warrick’s face was pasty and still, his shattered lips still parted around where his teeth had been kicked out.

Vereint sucked in a hissing breath and his hands clenched into claw shapes at his sides. He was going mad. The world was a riot of bright reds and softer pinks and the glistening lengths of intestine. The image before him was soaking itself into his brain. Becoming the truth of his existence.

Then he noticed that the Blue Ice uniform was wrong. It was one Vereint knew for sure had been ruined in a fight with Behemoth. He’d thrown it away himself, which had been a real hardship. It had been his favorite.

Just that quick he knew someone was messing with his brain.

It was as though someone had snapped a new lens on a camera, everything coming into focus. He could still see the mind fuckery of the illusion, but it was hollow and thin, all the emotional impact sucked out.

There were two men in black three piece suits standing next to a card table. They were laughing and joking, placing bets on how long he would freak out for.

As his mind started working again, Vereint’s eyes were drawn to the vibrating silver device on the table. He’d only ever heard about them, but he was pretty sure that was a Psiren. It sent sound waves focused to some frequency that could force the human brain to experience different emotions. The feelings drawn up were so strong that some people experienced correlating hallucinations.

Vereint tried to make his body convey terror and grief and was glad of the ski mask he’d pulled on before leaving. He’d never been that great of an actor, which is why he usually let Warrick do the lying for the both of them.

His eyes slid to the back of the room where he’d spotted the glint of a blade pressed tight against the real Warrick’s throat. Warrick wasn’t moving, was flopped limply, but Vereint could see the minute quiver of his breaths. He was pulled across the over-sized lap of a man that had to be a good fifteen hundred pounds.

Vereint recognized the man as Jericho Slim, sometimes called the Knife Man because he could do horrible nightmare things with a blade. He could draw them out of his flesh like gall stones. He would gag and a blade would come out from between his lips or sometimes it would just be slivers. It was said he could spit his Needle Darts faster than a viper and he could hit a target up to two hundred feet away.

Even though he was sure he was faster than Jericho Slim, Vereint didn’t want to risk the guy getting lucky. It was better to play it safe and maneuver the situation to where he’d have better odds of keeping Warrick alive.

After what he figured had to be a good five minutes, Vereint let himself sag to the floor with a low moan. From what he knew, an improperly used Psiren could cause catatonia in people that had experienced severe psychological trauma in the past.

He was worried about Warrick. ***. Being hit with the effects of a Psiren could give him permanent damage.

Vereint was pretty sure he was going to be killing some people today.

“He’s passed out,” the skinnier of the two men at the table said.

“Wonder who he is,” the other one said.

“Who cares? He’d down and out,” Skinny said. “What do you want us to do with him, boss?”

Jericho Slim had a surprisingly sweet voice for a man that was so large. It was the kind of voice that could have done commercials or read off movie times. “He must be working with this one here. Bring him to that chair and get that stupid ski mask off. Let’s see what kind of fish we managed to catch in our trap this time.”

Vereint kept his eyes closed as he was patted down, then hung limp as he was hauled up by his arms and tossed onto a hard wooden chair. It was one of those kind that had a rocking chair back and he could feel the knobby round spokes pressing against his spine. He let himself be lashed in place by rope, though a minute flex of his muscles let him know he could break free easily.

He felt the ski mask get ripped off his face and let his head flop forward when it was released. His chin was grasped by a slightly sticky hand and his hair was shoved out of the way as his face was turned toward the light.

“He’s a pretty one, isn’t he?” Not-Skinny said. “He should make good money on the market.”

“Someone might pay a lot of money for a face like that,” Skinny agreed. “Are we going to sell him, boss?”

“We’ll find out when he wakes up,” Jericho Slim said. “If he’s got more to him than a pretty face, we could get a better price.”

Racking his brain, Vereint didn’t remember Jericho Slim ever being caught up in the flesh trade, but it looked like the man had changed professions. He would wait until they were put in some sort of cell or something and he could just carry Warrick away rather than risking something happening.

“Are we going to sell that one too, boss?” Skinny asked.

“No,” Jericho Slim said, stroking Warrick’s hair. “This one here’s a special case. I think I’m going to keep him for myself.”

It was a struggle for Vereint to remain unmoving. His mouth wanted to snarl and he was nearly trembling from holding himself still. He didn’t want to know what Jericho Slim wanted with Warrick and there was no way he was going to let anything happen. He would just have to make sure he was both strong and decisive when he made his move.

He kept his body completely limp as he was lifted up roughly by hands under his arms. His heels scraped the floor as he was dragged toward a door at the back of the warehouse.

The route incidentally took him passed where Jericho Slim held Warrick.

Opportunity knocks and the devil rocks.

/ EXCERPT

Read some of my other stories free at Kimichee.
Examples: The Panic Pure, From Diamond to Coal, Idlewile.

“Heroes & Villains,” by Harper Kingsley will be returning August 14 from Less Than Three Press. It’s a superhero mm romance action adventure story. You know you want some…

Heroes & Villains at Amazon

Title: From Diamond to Coal
Author: Sol Crafter
Genre: science fiction, mm romance
Rating: teen+

Summary: Picks up from the end of Arc One [available from Amazon or Smashwords] William and Alan are coming back from their honeymoon, dealing with police, and basically getting their lives back together.

CHAPTER NINE

 

The car pulled up in front of the brownstone and William barely waited for the door to be opened all the way before leaping out. He didn’t really want to go inside, but a big part of him insisted that it was better to just get the horror over with than to let himself linger in misery.

“So they’re already waiting for us inside?” he asked Byron Hughes.

The bodyguard shrugged. “Looks like. O’Rielly says the police are very insistent on talking to you.” He slammed the car door shut behind Alan and walked with them across the sidewalk to the front door. “The detectives I dealt with seemed pretty good and they made it really easy, but I don’t know if they’re who you will be answering to.”

William patted Byron’s broad shoulder. “It’s all right. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we’ll be able to get on with the rest of our lives.”

“Why do I feel as though I’m dealing with some kind of pod person?” Alan asked.

William grinned at him, and it was only a little fake. “You did fall asleep on the plane. Maybe that’s when I was replaced.”

“Way to give me nightmares.” Alan mock-shuddered. “I think I saw this movie once and Nicole Kidman ended up shooting James Bond in the leg.”

Fortress in the Eye of Time at Amazon

NaNoWriMo seems to be going well 🙂 I’m actually pretty happy with what I’ve written so far and the story is coming together at a good pace. I’m very pleased.

I keep checking on Smashwords to see if anyone has downloaded samples of my NaNo and I would really like to see what people think of it so far, but that’s just one of those things. Reviews come when reviews come.

EXCERPT —

Nicholas woke with a groan. “Stop shaking me, you’ll give me the syndrome.”

“You’re not a baby,” Christian sounded amused, “so get up before I pour water on you.”

Knowing that there was no way Christian was going to let it go, Nicholas forced himself to sit up. His hair felt crazy around his head and his eyes were so dry and sore that he had to rub them until he could see clearly. “Why do you have to do this to me?”

“Because your brother made me promise to get you up so you could arrange our lunch with that guy from last night,” Christian said patiently. He knew that Nicholas was not at his best just after waking up.

“What are you talking about?” Nicholas threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, his hand going out to catch himself on the hotel nightstand before he went over. He yawned hugely and stretched his spine until it made the unpleasant cracking sounds Christian always professed to hate.

“You told that David guy that you would let him take you to lunch, remember?” Christian followed him into the bathroom and unscrewed the lid of a water bottle while Nicholas urinated. “Frankie said to make sure you called the guy.”

Nicholas sighed and flushed the toilet. “Do you have anything for my head?”

“Of course.” Christian filled a water glass and shook two Advil out of a small bottle. “Wash your hands,” he ordered, then preceded to ignore Nicholas’ roll of the eyes and turned on the tap for him.

“Yes, master.” Nicholas quickly washed his hands, then reached for his toothbrush. He couldn’t even manage to drink plain water with the horrible taste in his mouth. He’d always been finicky.

Christian was ever patient and had the water and pills held out toward him before he lowered the towel from his face. “Swallow these and drink all the water. I don’t know why you have to get so wasted whenever we go anywhere.”

“Because it makes me feel special.” Nicholas gave his best dipshit smirk and reached for the pills. “You’re such a dear.”

“Darling, you are a real bitch in the morning,” Christian said. He watched to make sure Nicholas really swallowed the analgesics, then pressed the water on him. “At least you’re getting some color back in your cheeks. We’ll eat some breakfast, then you can take a shower and we’ll go.”

“Why do you always have to push me around?” Nicholas gave him a quick shoulder bump as he took the glass in his hand and began drinking the water. “I’m not a little kid, you know.”

“Of course you’re not.” Christian gave him a catlike look of amusement. He was dressed in black slacks and a bright blue sweater. His black hair was neatly combed and he smelled like clean skin and cologne.

Nicholas huffed a breath and thunked the glass down on the counter. He was dressed in his pajamas, his hair was a mess, and he felt absolutely ruined from the night before, and Christian looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine. It just wasn’t fair.

“What?” Christian asked, quirking a brow.

“Nothing,” Nicholas said hurriedly, then felt a twinge of guilt go through him and he couldn’t even say why. He thought maybe he should tell Christian that he was having some of his weird moods again, but then Christian would get all paranoid and they were only going to be in Seattle for a few weeks before they went back to Malibu. Everything was going to be all right and he could maintain for a little while.

“Let’s get some food,” he said, pushing himself so he could be the first one out of the bathroom. Those bright lights would make it easier for Christian to read his face and there wasn’t anyone on the world that knew him better. One good look and it would be over.

“I’ve already called for room service and it should be here…” There was a knock at the door and Christian gave a pleased sounded grunt. “Right on time. You sit at the table.”

Nicholas mock-grumbled as he settled down on one of the chairs at the round table. He tried to flatten his hair with his hands, then gave it up as a lost cause even before Christian let the stiffly uniformed girl in with her service cart of covered dishes.

Pulling his feet up on the chair in front of him, he wrapped his arms around his legs and leaned his cheek against his knees. He watched Christian’s face as he watched the girl arrange the food on the table–scrambled eggs, turkey sausage, Belgian waffles, a whole platter of sliced fruit, orange juice, and coffee–he was very focused on the task.

Most of the time it was great that Christian cared about him so much. It was comforting and made him feel safer than he ever had before in his life. But then there were the times when Christian sacrificed something from his own life to make Nicholas happy and it was too much.

It hadn’t taken Nicholas long to realize that Christian seemed to really get something out of making him happy. There would be a glow about him and he’d have this satisfied smile and he didn’t seem to care what he had to do to give Nicholas whatever he thought he wanted. It was nice to be fawned over a bit and he loved that Christian cared that much about him.

But there were some times when Christian went overboard. He had no problem rearranging his schedule at the tip of a hat if it had something to do with Nicholas, and because of that he’d managed to offend some very important people. He’d lost out on several multi-million dollar deals and not given them a moment’s thought. And when Nicholas had found out what was going on… he’d been horrified to think that he’d been abusing Christian’s kindness and he was a terrible friend.

So he’d been careful about the things he asked for and he kept a copy of Christian’s schedule overlapping his on his phone. He was trying really hard to be responsible and he knew their Seattle trip was anything but a vacation and whatever Chirstian was doing was incredibly important for the future of DeLongeria Enterprises.

His bit of crazy was going to have to take a back burner to Christian’s schedule. Nicholas had made a promise to himself that he would maintain his control this whole trip. He could wait to fall apart when they got home and Christian could call the Doc.

Christian signed the receipt with a flourish, making sure to write in a very generous tip, then watched to make sure the girl and her cart completely left the suite. He was paranoid about that kind of thing, though he’d never said why.

Nicholas grabbed his fork and reached out to begin poking food onto his plate. He was feeling much better than he had when he’d woken up, but that didn’t really mean a whole lot. He still felt as though his head was stuffed full of straw.

“Here, stop, let me do that.” Christian gently pushed his fork out of the way and picked up Nicholas’ plate. He had an easy kind of grace as he used the serving spoons and tongs Nicholas had ignored. “You’re like a savage or something. If I left it up to you, you’d stab things with sticks and cook them over a fire. Or half-cook them knowing you and your impatience.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes and sucked on the tines of his fork. The smell of the food was making his stomach rumble, which was weird because he hadn’t even felt hungry before. “You nag so much I think I can hear your voice in my head even when you’re not there.”

“Good,” Christian set the plate down in front of Nicholas, “hopefully the me in your head at least tries to keep you out of trouble. I could use the support of someone that knows just how wily you can be.”

“Whatever.” Nicholas slid his feet back on the floor, curling his toes against the morning chill. He used his butter knife to first slather his waffle with strawberry jam, then quickly cut it into bite-sized pieces, then shrugged and cut his sausage up too.

Christian prepared two cups of coffee, sliding Nicholas’ across to him first. He always knew just the right amount of sugar and cream to mix in and Nicholas didn’t hesitate to give him a heartfelt “Thank you” before taking the first sip. He already felt as though he was being brought back to life by the delicious brew.

“Eat your breakfast and we’ll call that guy,” Nicholas said, pointing his fork rudely.

“You’re a real class act.” Christian shook his head fondly, but quickly swirled some maple syrup on his own waffle before sitting down to eat. “He better take us to a nice place.”

“You’re a snob.” Nicholas speared a cut strawberry and popped it into his mouth. “I’m the one that will be deciding whether I want to date the guy. Besides, there’s no way you’d let me live in a dirty hovel raising barefoot children, is there?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Christian’s nostrils flared. “Of course not. Just because you always feel like you need to sacrifice yourself for the good of other people, that doesn’t mean I’d ever let that happen to you.”

Nicholas hid a smile and went about the business of eating. “I’ll call the guy. We can find out if he’s good enough to date me.”

“You don’t have to put it like that,” Christian said. “At least don’t say it like that, especially if we’re in public.”

“It’s just the two of us here right now. Get over it.”

/EXCERPT

Uramichi Oniisan 01 at Amazon

The Panic Pure is one of those stories that came out of me in a great big rush of words and images, like my head exploded. Then it sputtered, and now it’s slowed to a trickle. I’m still writing on it, but it’s getting harder and harder.

MIXED DEETS:

Daniel “Danny” Worth — After the murder of his parents, he was raised by his abusive maternal aunt, Lauren Green. It’s all in the past now–he got her out of his life and away from his company–and he is a successful, if “eccentric” businessman. He lives a life of rules and routines and medication. He has come a long way after years of  hard work and therapy. He has everything he could ever want, but he’s lonely.

Marshal Newman — His grandparents took him in when he was a kid whenever his parents would dump him off. He enjoyed watching the storybook romance his grandparents shared and he always dreamed of a love like that for his own. It had always seemed like a hopeless wish before, until he met Danny for the first time.

One is afraid all the time, and the other is desperately searching for the love of his life. Together they’ve found a delicate happiness. One that is about to be destroyed by a dangerous serial killer.

Businessman and FBI agent by day, lovestruck fools by night.