Note to Newcomers

The Nate and Seth series is a continuing story that includes challenge prompts. To read them in chronological order, click on the Nate and Seth Series page and follow the links. I hope you enjoy!

Confession

“Is there something wrong?” 

I ticked off salient points. “We’re in Las Vegas, which in and of itself was an abominable decision. You hit on possibly the only woman in the bar who shouldn’t go anywhere with you, much less to your room for a quickie. Which you did after losing your part of the travel fund attempting to impress her.”

He interrupted. “She has a name.”

I opened my arms. “Look at all the fucks I don’t give. Why? Because you didn’t check to see if her name came with a ‘missus’ in front of it before you played tonsil hockey by the elevators!”

“She wasn’t wearing a ring.” A weak protest, best ignored.

“No, she was dripping with diamonds, including sewn into her goddamned dress. Was that not a clue?”

“Sexist of you. She could have bought those herself.”

I snorted. “Women are generally smart enough to invest their money elsewhere, because they know how to show themselves off with more class and less danger. Jewels are bought by their very well-connected husbands, should they be lucky enough – or un – to have such.”

“You’re just jealous.”

I took a deep breath.
Two.
Didn’t help.
Another.
Slightly better.
I let it out slowly.

“No, you fucking moron. I’m pissed off that you put me in this situation.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.


And that, officer, is why I shot my brother in the ass.  I did not, however, shoot the guy in the bathtub. I just borrowed his gun.

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Written for the Thursday Threads challenge. Check out the other entries, too!

ETA: And it won!

Incursion

Letting go of myself was easy; I’d never been too attached. Harder was exploring Nate’s labyrinthine mind. Stronger wards than spells could craft kept modesty at bay – both his and mine – protecting his true nature from our world. And vice versa.

Constant salvos left us trembling, blasts of confusion, anger, fear, and hatred. If he’d been a stranger I would have been expelled, perhaps crippled. The hive functioned as a whole but couldn’t feel or think like individual humans. Magic alone can’t overcome bone-deep love.

Magic and a red-hot spike? That works.

I got what I needed. As did they.

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Back in the Ring

By Colleen Foley

Seth’s “Not now!” fell on intentionally deaf ears.

I’d been out of joint since the opening salvo of this mess. Being splattered with carcinogenic tomato guts will do that to a guy. But the familiar, dysfunctional domesticity of whiskey in Jimmy’s kitchen, had finally snapped me back to…me.

All honesty, I’m not a modest guy and I wanted nothing more than to dive my over-confident, evil-smiting self ,right into this “crawl inside your head” challenge Seth had presented. Right now.

My grin widened further. I slammed back a final shot and nodded.

"Bring it, little brother. Let’s get’er done."

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Slap Shot

“Should I leave you two alone?” Uncle Jim lacked Nate’s slur.

I doubt I’ll get to Heaven, but if I do, those two will join me at the bar.

I ignored Jim’s asinine comment, addressing Nate. “How much’ve you had to drink?”

“How much do I need to?” Nate shot back.

“Enough, then.” I released my held breath, whiskey-pungent. “Short version is I need to crawl inside your head, like I did to that thing in the cave… hole… place.”

Jim snorted. “I definitely need to leave before that.”

“Not now!” I protested.

Nate grinned. “Oh yeah. It’s on.”

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Another Round

By Colleen Foley

I’d forced Seth’s hand on the demon question. I’d thought the idea asinine, but the way things had been going, I needed him to say it. The kid was weird. Asked a direct question, he’d prevaricate if he felt the need, but he’d never initiate a lie.

Jimmy’s kitchen was pungent with the scent of whiskey and herbs, both magical and protective. The head of the Peter Rabbit cookie jar I’d blasted to heaven still sat on the counter, a guilty reminder of how far off the reservation I’d been.

“So, I’m a road map. How you gonna… read me?”

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Dining In?

The waitress,
duotone hair, lavender eye-shadow,
sat us by
a Mexican family,
grim, save children
playing pat-a-cake, unaware.

Unusually tall,
a Black man apologized
to his lady,
bleach-dead locks, tan face-paint,
for asinine remarks
overheard by a corpulent couple
whose skin no longer fit.

Hannah and I,
road-weary, bemused
by disco soundtrack
and “new” items –
avocado garnish, iced coffee –
attempted to read recent tattoos
on each staff member’s forearms
and failed, unfocused.

Sensing hostility,
Hannah begged to leave.
Outside,
a pungent smoker
with skeletal grin,
sent us scurrying.

Quick search
reveals the Heavenly Café
never reopened
after mass-murder
in 1978.

Family Ties

“If the thing claiming to have spawned me is alive, then he probably activated a network to bring me in.”

“Or down.” Trust Uncle Jim to cover the even more negative aspect.

Nate nodded. “Explains Carlos. Interesting connections.”

I waited for Nate to ask the taboo question, the one that might sever our ties. He stared at me, refusing, forcing me to speak first.

“No, I am not part demon.”

Jim snorted. “No shit. You wouldn’t have made it past the driveway.”

True. His warding is complex and enormous. Challenging. Someday I’ll ask what he did for such an endowment. Or not.

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Set ‘em up

Whiskey slid down my throat, caustic, welcome. Another followed. If I kept drinking, I wouldn’t have to process Nate expressing gratitude for my magic. And I surely wouldn’t answer with a smile so big it would be like asking him to shoot me.

“Aren’t we an intimate little group of killers.” Jim matched my alcohol intake, to little effect.

Nate gave the smile I hid. “Doesn’t count if they aren’t human.”

“Ever stop to think about the monsters who might seek to avenge those deaths?”

“We have now.” I nodded to Nate. “And he’s the roadmap to take them out.”

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Stage Five: Acceptance

By Colleen Foley

Seated at Jimmy’s ancient kitchen table, I poured another shot, pondered Seth’s newest revelation, and tried not to scratch at my magically induced “ink”.

Brother and uncle sat silently, watching warily, as if I might simply decide to shoot one or both. Didn’t blame them, really. My mood had been caustic at best lately.

“OK, the marks are protecting me from a more “intimate” relationship with this hive. And thanks for that, by the way.”

I poured three shots, passed them around.

“So, if the hive’s all about YOU then why dog my ass, and can we avenge that? Now?”


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Rebelations

Ezra was ill-suited to righting wrongs, preferring prevention. Alas, humanity had been designed to falter, flail, fail. He could not save them all, so he studiously ignored the masses.

But Sarah had called out, old words in a new tongue, screamed in desperation, her curse compelling him to action.

The thug spat caustic threats to intimidate, useless against the already fallen. Ezra took joy in removing the villain’s soul, an intimate act of ultimate violation.

No one was meant to see, but half-dead Sarah watched intently. “Momma always said beware avenging angels.”

He held out his hand.

She took it.

Wed

She arrived on the tide,
his Irish bride,
with her too-bright hair
and her soft green eyes
alight with love.

Her gloved hand paused on the door
of his coach and four, as she skipped
the creaky step as though she knew
it made the sound of dead things.

I’ll wager he never told her
how that came to be,
the things he’d done to me
not so long ago
when I was pretty.

She will learn, tonight,
of his unnatural appetite
for terrible tangles
of flesh and fear.

His desire satisfied,
she will fly from him.

Straight to me.

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Apparently, this never posted, though it was written well over a year ago.

Riding the Storm Out

It’s unwise to push Nate. I’d done so repeatedly, out of dire need. He had trouble accepting that.

I kept quiet, letting his antique rock music wash over me. Magic built, sliding through my body like a sentient thing. The markings acted as loci, power pooling, sparking pins and needles, only sharper. I hadn’t asked for my “gift.” I’d been impressed into service with no one to lead me.

Nate broke silence first. “Why does my shoulder itch?”

“Best guess? The hive is trying to gain control. The tattoo prevents them.”

“Fantastic.”

I hid my smile, because it really was.


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