by Colleen Foley
Things had become too turbulent, and I was done.
”Carlos” had let the sword fall when he’d grabbed Seth. Seemed he’d discounted me as a threat.
“Oh. Hell. No.”
I strode forward, sweeping up the blade and drove it into his groin.
“Kid marked me and I got no handbook.”
Grabbing a handful of hair, I yanked him toward me, jabbed under his sternum, twisted, yanked it out with a grunt.
“Want.. some answers…”
The blade sawed through his neck…
Blood.
Screaming.
Good.
“And you…are in…my way.”
I dropped both head and sword at Seth’s feet and glared.
“Dude...the fuck?”
______________
Next
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Uncommon Courtesy
Tiffany-Leigh: cheerleader, straight-A
student, future veterinarian, inherently cool. She’d surpassed high
school aristocracy to stand just below demi-god.
Me: quiet, average everything, no glamour – even though I could be shiny if I wanted.
Carrington Manse: not really haunted, still dangerous.
The perfect szygy: fates aligned for the popular girl to die.
Only idiots cross the hungry grounds of Carrington on purpose, which meant Tiffany-Leigh was bullied or pushed into the eldritch woods. She didn’t scream.
I usually let travelers fall, but Tiffany-Leigh is nice to everyone. Even me. That makes her worth saving.
Even if she’ll never know my name.
Me: quiet, average everything, no glamour – even though I could be shiny if I wanted.
Carrington Manse: not really haunted, still dangerous.
The perfect szygy: fates aligned for the popular girl to die.
Only idiots cross the hungry grounds of Carrington on purpose, which meant Tiffany-Leigh was bullied or pushed into the eldritch woods. She didn’t scream.
I usually let travelers fall, but Tiffany-Leigh is nice to everyone. Even me. That makes her worth saving.
Even if she’ll never know my name.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Save It For Later
I dove out of the way of a serrated sword.
“What is this thing?” Nate spat blood.
“Let me check the catalog of demonry we don’t have.” My thrown knife hit the hell-spawn’s shoulder.
Nate shot it. Repeatedly.
It didn’t seem to notice. “Name’s Carlos. Daddy wants a word.”
“Tough.” My tattoos blazed, the last of my magic.
Nate howled, covering his own markings. “What the hell did you do to me?”
“Later.”
“No.” He reloaded.
“You want to do this now?” I slammed Carlos toward the abyss.
“I really do.”
I couldn’t answer. Carlos had me by the throat.
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Next
“What is this thing?” Nate spat blood.
“Let me check the catalog of demonry we don’t have.” My thrown knife hit the hell-spawn’s shoulder.
Nate shot it. Repeatedly.
It didn’t seem to notice. “Name’s Carlos. Daddy wants a word.”
“Tough.” My tattoos blazed, the last of my magic.
Nate howled, covering his own markings. “What the hell did you do to me?”
“Later.”
“No.” He reloaded.
“You want to do this now?” I slammed Carlos toward the abyss.
“I really do.”
I couldn’t answer. Carlos had me by the throat.
_____________________
Next
Saturday, March 16, 2013
What Goes Unsaid
“First, she shaved her head. Then, she started piercing everything.” Aunt Aggie cataloged my sins to Pastor Joe, as I waited on the hard bench outside. “Now, she has a tattoo.”
“It’s not your fault,” he soothed. “Puberty is ripe for demonry.”
I stared at the floor. “He should know.”
“We can save her from the Abyss, Agatha. Send her here after school, every day.”
I started shaking.
Amber reached for me, promise ring glinting. “Is it true, what you told me?”
I nodded, crying.
She grabbed my hand. “Then tonight, he finds out what a real demon can do.”
Time To Go
By Colleen Foley
Seems I couldn’t do it without pain. Not this time anyway. Sunitra hadn’t minded.
At the end, when I’d released the bonds and laid her on her bed, her dark eyes had glinted and she’d almost purred.
She’d languidly stroked a bite, at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, as I straddled her hips, unwilling to relinquish dominance, even yet.
There was no need for apology, but I offered anyway.
“A notch, nothing more. A pleasant souvenir of your…decanting.” She grinned wickedly at her own wit.
I barked a laugh and left her with a less than gentle kiss.
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Next
Seems I couldn’t do it without pain. Not this time anyway. Sunitra hadn’t minded.
At the end, when I’d released the bonds and laid her on her bed, her dark eyes had glinted and she’d almost purred.
She’d languidly stroked a bite, at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, as I straddled her hips, unwilling to relinquish dominance, even yet.
There was no need for apology, but I offered anyway.
“A notch, nothing more. A pleasant souvenir of your…decanting.” She grinned wickedly at her own wit.
I barked a laugh and left her with a less than gentle kiss.
___________________
Next
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Fox and Hound
“He acts like a lord taking stock of his vassals,” the woman beside me huffed. Flawless makeup hid much, but she’d been used often and badly.
“I think of him more as a shepherd looking over his flock.”
“You mean they’d follow him anywhere?”
“I mean if they scattered, he’d never get them back.”
Not that I blamed Val for having no control over those in attendance. Young, rich, and frequently bored, they waited for someone to break their social code, so they could turn on the heretic.
I sat at the bar, not so out of place as to be obvious, but someone was bound to notice I didn’t belong. Lucky me, that person was Val. He gave me a crooked smile and approached, all perfect lines and animal grace. I’d waited years for this moment, not that he knew it.
“Catalina,” he purred. “Lovely to see you again.”
“Percival Weatherstone.”
“How might I serve you?” He gave a mock bow, complete with flourish.
“I think it’s my turn.” I reached into my purse, pulled out a letter, and slapped it on his chest. “Consider yourself served.”
He tossed it aside. “After all we meant to each other, how could you treat me as a job?”
“It was just sex, Val.” Spectacular sex, actually. “I’m a constable, and tonight you are my job. Good luck.”
I left him, mouth agape, and smiled all the way home. He never could stand his charms being ignored.
The chase was on.
________________________
Written for the Thursday Threads challenge.
“I think of him more as a shepherd looking over his flock.”
“You mean they’d follow him anywhere?”
“I mean if they scattered, he’d never get them back.”
Not that I blamed Val for having no control over those in attendance. Young, rich, and frequently bored, they waited for someone to break their social code, so they could turn on the heretic.
I sat at the bar, not so out of place as to be obvious, but someone was bound to notice I didn’t belong. Lucky me, that person was Val. He gave me a crooked smile and approached, all perfect lines and animal grace. I’d waited years for this moment, not that he knew it.
“Catalina,” he purred. “Lovely to see you again.”
“Percival Weatherstone.”
“How might I serve you?” He gave a mock bow, complete with flourish.
“I think it’s my turn.” I reached into my purse, pulled out a letter, and slapped it on his chest. “Consider yourself served.”
He tossed it aside. “After all we meant to each other, how could you treat me as a job?”
“It was just sex, Val.” Spectacular sex, actually. “I’m a constable, and tonight you are my job. Good luck.”
I left him, mouth agape, and smiled all the way home. He never could stand his charms being ignored.
The chase was on.
________________________
Written for the Thursday Threads challenge.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Payback
To Him, Miaserra said:
Decant the liquid without sediment. Steady hands make a difference.
Breathe steadily as it does, fractured red in cut crystal.
Wait until the ideal moment, revealed by surface vibrations.
Stay alert. Timing is everything.
Drink, and your future is revealed.
To me, she instructed:
Descant without sentiment. Empty heart precludes harsh memories.
Gasp convincingly, straddling the chasm between was and is.
Let him have his moment, rewarded by your tremors, another notch on his belt.
Stay awake. His time is limited.
Sacrifice virtue, and revenge is yours.
She failed to mention the resultant babe.
Damned witches.
Decant the liquid without sediment. Steady hands make a difference.
Breathe steadily as it does, fractured red in cut crystal.
Wait until the ideal moment, revealed by surface vibrations.
Stay alert. Timing is everything.
Drink, and your future is revealed.
To me, she instructed:
Descant without sentiment. Empty heart precludes harsh memories.
Gasp convincingly, straddling the chasm between was and is.
Let him have his moment, rewarded by your tremors, another notch on his belt.
Stay awake. His time is limited.
Sacrifice virtue, and revenge is yours.
She failed to mention the resultant babe.
Damned witches.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Not a Story
Or, more accurately, not fiction. I just found out that my novel, Split Shift, has made the quarter-final round in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest! I could not be happier, though at the moment I feel a bit of shock coming on. The novel was born in a dream, which prompted me to write a flash fiction called Monkey in the Middle. I figured that would be the end of that, but the Old Wolf and the Grizzled Bear wouldn't leave it be until I told the whole story - and as it turns out, it was quite different than that little bit of flash fiction, though the players are the same.
ETA: You can download and read the first two chapter for free at Amazon by clicking here. If you wish to review them, I would very much appreciate it.
Should I be so graced as to make the semi-finals, I'll let you know.
UPATE: The excerpt is no longer available on Amazon, as I did not make the semi-final round. Time to shop for an agent!
ETA: You can download and read the first two chapter for free at Amazon by clicking here. If you wish to review them, I would very much appreciate it.
Should I be so graced as to make the semi-finals, I'll let you know.
UPATE: The excerpt is no longer available on Amazon, as I did not make the semi-final round. Time to shop for an agent!
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Saturday, March 09, 2013
Touch and Go
Lies were forbidden Sibyl, but she could straddle the truth until it was only a notch above fiction. Either the thing I’d killed hadn’t been my father, or it survived without breath or heartbeat. I’m not sloppy; I checked.
“Not a bit curious?” she prodded.
I kept focus. Decanted wrong, the liquid would kill. Done right, it was currency.
Sybil wanted me shaky. She knew the elixir wasn’t for me.
I heated wax to seal the bottle, dripped some over her hand. She gasped, licked her lips.
“Maybe some other time.” For the question or her desire, I wouldn’t say.
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Next
Labels:
flash fiction,
Magic,
paranormal,
series,
Seth,
witchcraft
Thursday, March 07, 2013
Two Steps Forward…
Sybil watched, wary, as I plundered her storeroom. Packets of herbs joined powders, stones, and bones.
“You’ll bleed me dry,” she said without rancor.
“We still wouldn’t be even, though as spell ingredients go, your blood is top-shelf.”
“Don’t threaten me, boy.”
I gave her my true smile. “We both know that isn’t necessary. Times have changed.”
“I could tell you how it all ends.” A brittle offer.
“I’ll pass. You’re no altruist, so I’ll save my question for something I really want to know.”
“Like how to kill your father?”
“Did that.”
She laughed. “Never so easy. He lives.”
____________________
Next
“You’ll bleed me dry,” she said without rancor.
“We still wouldn’t be even, though as spell ingredients go, your blood is top-shelf.”
“Don’t threaten me, boy.”
I gave her my true smile. “We both know that isn’t necessary. Times have changed.”
“I could tell you how it all ends.” A brittle offer.
“I’ll pass. You’re no altruist, so I’ll save my question for something I really want to know.”
“Like how to kill your father?”
“Did that.”
She laughed. “Never so easy. He lives.”
____________________
Next
No Pain, No Gain
By Colleen Foley
Sunitra had left me to wait for Seth with a bottle of whiskey and an altruistic smile. Her parting shot had been whispered, almost sadly, against my temple.
“Go see one of the pretty ones.”
Seth had come and gone. He’d stunk of herbs, and a need darker than anything any of the “pretty ones” was going to fix.
…
Sunitra opened the door, stared warily at me.
“What do you…?”
I stepped in, turned her around, and pinned her against the wall.
I stared at the bindings, considering.
“Let’s see if I can do it without pain, pretty one.”
________________
Next
Sunitra had left me to wait for Seth with a bottle of whiskey and an altruistic smile. Her parting shot had been whispered, almost sadly, against my temple.
“Go see one of the pretty ones.”
Seth had come and gone. He’d stunk of herbs, and a need darker than anything any of the “pretty ones” was going to fix.
…
Sunitra opened the door, stared warily at me.
“What do you…?”
I stepped in, turned her around, and pinned her against the wall.
I stared at the bindings, considering.
“Let’s see if I can do it without pain, pretty one.”
________________
Next
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He was devilishly handsome and only seen after dark. Blue-black hair in fashionable dishabille complimented perfectly tailored suits. He stood out in nightclubs, where he never seemed to sweat. A killer smile and come-hither gaze didn’t hide his predatory nature.
She knew him instantly for what he was. Once, she might have sought formal introduction. This one wanted a thing to be stalked, a skittish miss with a bit of a stutter, shyly bitten lip, eyes widened at his inherent dominance. The trick was not to appear eager. If he’d wanted a parnel, they crowded the nightclub, too foolish to think of charging for their favors.
Seduction proved simple – short but merry chase along the bar, across a room, out to the street, where he finally convinced her to get in his limousine and thereafter his bed. The only thing that had changed over the centuries was the mode of transport.
He was exactly as expected: talented, accomplished, masterful, beautiful even in release. They rode each other hard through the night.
Slick bodies entwined, she whispered, “I could drown in your essence.”
Fool that he was, he invited her. And thus fell another vampire imposter, albeit an incredibly tasty one.
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Written for the Sinful Sunday Challenge