A Distant Memory
I let out a long sigh as my body relaxes. The air here is different. I don’t know how to explain it, but it makes me feel more alive. Like my powers are slowly being regenerated from the Source.
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Pleased to Meet Me?
And that was my upbringing. That was my lot in life. A lot more gore and a lot less…and they lived happily ever after. As I grew, so did my training. Why read about Robin Hood without taking up archery? The Three Musketeers came with years of fencing. When the stories were finished, the training remained. Eventually, I was weaned off the books, but the training was always there.
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A Strange Homecoming, Part I
“Good, because that is where the Source is. The magic in this world springs from that location, and I need you to go there. You will find answers to your questions and perhaps a new purpose in your life. Not that the life you are living is not worthwhile, but I know you can be so much more.”
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The Hanged Man
.So, yeah, I’m gonna let you in on a secret. The last time I checked, I’ve been drowned eight times, burned at the stake twice, beaten, stoned, shoved off a cliff, stabbed, even flayed alive once. But each time, my dogged regeneration kicks in and keeps me alive. I have never been pushed over the edge to wherever we go when we die.
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Running Away Home
The women gossiped and laughed as they huddled together on their way out the door. Feeling frustrated, Krista sent a small burst of air to tangle the women’s feet, then giggled as they all stumbled into each other. Because it was the first time she’d genuinely smiled all day, she added a blast of wind that sent their skirts flying over their heads. She slipped past them and headed home with a wide grin on her face.
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Buzzing
I didn’t scream, but the bottle slipped through my fingers, landing and cracking against the already scratched wood floor. There was no dramatic shatter as I stared at the man before me. The vodka, the once desired liquid freedom, oozed out across my bare feet from the crack now lining the bottle. It soaked into my skin as I tried to force myself to breathe.
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Wolves of War, Part I
She is a werecoyote with the attitude to match. What she lacks in size, she makes up for in aggression and expertise shooting. She came with me from Mexico when I left, and she is someone I trust completely. I trust all of those that work for me. How could I not? They know the price of betrayal is always paid in blood.
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Home
Sitting back in my chair, I look at my tattoo, worry churning in my gut. The black dragon that wraps around my right arm is starting to fade from the lack of magic in my body. Just before I transform, the tattoo glows red, but at this point, I am not sure I could even make the shift. I rub my arm, squeezing my eyes shut as my head pounds. I’m tired—no, exhausted. My muscles and my mind are aching for a reboot. I can’t remember the last time I’d properly slept.
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Sorry, Wrong Number
“You’ve already tied yourself to one demon, at least this way, you’d get something out of it. I offer power, magic, a tie to that same Source that so foolishly called your uncle here instead of you. In exchange, I get you.”
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