Showing posts with label chapter 2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chapter 2. Show all posts

Monday, April 07, 2014

Jewel of the Gods - Chapter 2

(Out of pocket so more sneak peeks!)

If you missed it - Jewel of the Gods Chapter 1




Jewel of the Gods

Chapter 2

“I’m in.” Red leaned back against the wooden bar, a nice buzz ringing in his head from the spiced mead served by the locals. He wiped a bit of foam from his neatly trimmed beard.
Lucas gave him a pleased, lopsided grin.

“Okay, just so we perfectly understand each other—the stake is twenty slivers.”

Red nodded, his gaze following a yellow vein in the red sandstone walls around them. This was the first time he’d been in a tavern made from a hole in a cliff. The crudely formed wooden tables and benches, pitted and cut by the waves of mostly foreign customers over time, however, were like any he might have run across in the Mulatian ports. The smell of sweat and watered ale were the same as well, even if the over-spiced scent of the cheap food curled his nose hairs. But the walls, the ceiling…

He took a slow sip from his mug.

As amazed as he’d been when he gazed at the port through the spyglass, he’d been more so when one of the men at the embassy told them this port was the only point of contact with outsiders for the small country of Wasef. He didn’t know enough yet about the place to guess if it was in order to protect their way of life or some hidden reason.

“You’ll have a count of a thousand to make your move.” Lucas leaned in close, his curls circling his handsome tanned face. “Only a thousand. And the time starts the moment you open your mouth.”
Red waved the stipulation away as inconsequential. He slid Lucas a questioning glance.

“Anything else?”

This was a game the two of them played often. It was yet to be seen whether it was a boon or disaster that he’d drawn first round in this new, unknown place. The possibility of danger and adventure, however, gave it points to the positive.

“Oh, I think things will be difficult enough as they stand, my friend.” Lucas winked, not entirely steady on his feet. “The first one through the doorway should do.”

As if summoned by his words, the strings of beads over the entrance parted as a cowled figure came inside. When the person hesitated, Red stood up straighter and tugged down on his vest. Even though the newcomer was covered in brownish-red cloth from head to foot, it was hard to disguise the unique gait of a woman, if you knew what to look for.

She ventured farther into the room, turning her head as her hidden gaze traveled over the different sets of foreigners currently taking their leisure there. Three Almirians sat sourly at a corner table, ignoring everyone else, their orange-stained skin clashing with the natural color of the sandstone. Four Boldovians in steel and furs were taking turns arm wrestling anyone who came near. A loud clump of laughing and drinking Trillian workers, turbans and loincloths wrapped in intricate patterns over their bodies, took up the left wall.

Red waited until she looked in his direction and gave her his most elaborate bow. Watching Lucas and his efforts to woo all the women in the land did have advantages.

“Madam, I am new to these waters, and you seem a kindly soul. Might I buy you some refreshment in exchange for a few moments of your time?”

The woman’s head tilted at his words, and he felt her gaze roam over him. It occurred to him she might not have understood him. Perhaps his smile would do what his words had not. He sauntered closer.

He wasn’t sure if it was the strong mead, the unfamiliar atmosphere, or the fact this was the first woman he’d ever approached not belonging to the Thirteen Kingdoms, but it was like advancing on a bastion of power, he a mere horseman faced with the immensity of a closed keep. Then the feeling was gone. She looked up at him, and his green eyes met dark brown ones.

“From my spirit to yours.”

She made a sweeping gesture with her hand from her chest toward his. Red had seen the sign before and knew it for a greeting but hadn't heard it in his language before. He had no idea how to respond.

“Uhm, yes, you as well.”

“Your hair is quite unusual. What is your name?” Her voice was deep and rich.

“Red. Everyone calls me Red.”

Her intense gaze rested on his shoulder-length hair for a moment.

“Would you be surprised to hear that I was led to you?”

His brow rose, as he wondered if perhaps she’d had more to drink than he. A bet was a bet, though, and no way would Lucas accept excuses. Plus Red hated to lose.

“My hair does make me rather hard to miss.”

“Yes, red is a good portent when taken as representing fire. Fire burns, cleans, exposes. It is an excellent omen.” She looked pleased. “The elements have guided me wisely.”

Was it going to be this easy? She sounded like a nutter, but a lay was a lay and a bet was a bet. It didn’t hurt that his toes tingled at the possibility of things unexpected.

His hair color was rather uncommon, especially in the southern portions of Mulatia. It had previously given him an edge here and there with the women—and against Lucas’s oozing charm he needed all the assistance he could get—but never this much. It would be a new record. He guessed his kind were even rarer out in the world than he imagined. Or she was truly drunk.

“I have a skiff tied outside. Shall we go?”

Choking sounds and the clatter of a dropped mug echoed from behind him. Red threw his friend a quick look over his shoulder and grinned.

“Sounds good.” He slipped the woman’s arm through his own. “What should I call you?”

She leaned in close, using her cowl to conceal her lips as she spoke only loud enough for him to hear.
“Ylis. My name is Ylis.”

He thought the whole process rather odd, as no one was looking their way, but made no comment. He didn’t know the customs of this city. It was half of what made this game better than ever before.

The scents of river and seawater swirled around them as they stepped outside. The sun was already below the horizon, and most of the light had fled the sky, leaving a field of purple and black. The noise at this, the lowest level of the cliff face, was but a murmur compared to what it’d been during daylight.

A lamp outside the bar lit the path cut into the cliff, the same as the businesses. It revealed a covered skiff on the far side, tied to one of the narrow floating docks that extended up and down the waterway. A small lantern hung suspended from the sweeping neck at the front of the skiff, imitating the other boats parked or moving along the Tanu River. The mass of them gave the impression of a multitude of fireflies buzzing over the water.

Red hopped down to the dock and extended an arm to help his companion. He spotted a fleeting smile as she ignored this and, with incredibly light feet, bounced down to the dock and then the boat without hardly disturbing either. He had the sudden feeling she might end up being a handful. He was rather looking forward to it.

As he climbed onto the skiff, Ylis signaled to a brown-skinned man at the stern then lifted the flap of the covered area in the middle and slipped inside. Red made sure there was no one else within first then followed.

He felt the boat separate from the dock and slide upriver. He frowned at the last as he sat down on a bench across his companion, trying to remember if the current of the river had seemed fast or slow when he’d looked at it before. A delicate wrought iron lamp hung from the arch of the covering but didn’t flicker like a normal flame would. Beneath it, on what would be the center of the boat, was embedded a round piece of lapis lazuli. Winding carvings colored in blue extended forward and aft on the spine of the boat.

Ylis noticed what he was looking at.

“Though I have heard it is different in other lands, here we follow the Wisdom of the All. Fire, earth, water, air, spirit—each with its own strengths and weaknesses, each made more by the others and ourselves.

“The boat is tied to the water with these, and also to its owner. Together, they overcome the usual limitations and flow upstream.”

Red stared. She was talking about magic! He’d encountered it here and there in the different kingdoms in Mulatia, some fake, some real, but theirs came from the gods not the elements. And to have it being used on a skiff, of all things! Might be something worth investigating for the Sea Dragon. Being able to move against a current would be an awesome feat, indeed.

Ylis pulled her cowl back allowing Red to see her face fully for the first time. Her features were plain, thin lips and a wide nose on tan skin not making her particularly comely. Yet he still found himself strangely excited, for this woman was like none he’d seen. She wore no paints, no enhancements, and she had no hair.  Her head was totally bald.

Although he’d been in port a few hours, he’d seen none who looked like her before. Hairstyles for the women here seemed to vary by age, the young wearing it loose to their shoulders, those a little older in a multitude of braids and coiled into loops. The few wizened women he’d come across wore but one braid in a graying loop. None had been hairless. What did that make her?

On the right side of her face, swirling black tattoos covered her cheek and ear.  A sense of presence surrounded her, which felt more intense in the enclosed space. There would definitely be stories to tell once this dalliance was over.

“Where are we going?”

“Not far.” Ylis rolled back one of her dark sleeves. “I thought we should have some privacy for our business.”

Red’s evaluating gaze noticed her arm wasn’t bare, but rather sported runes in varied colors that continued to the unseen skin beneath her sleeve. He couldn’t tell if they were tattoos or only paint. Just what other enticing secrets lay hidden beneath the folds of her robe?

“This is your first time in Syrras, is it not?” She brought out a small box from beneath her bench and set it beside her.

“It is. We just arrived today. Haven’t really had a chance to look around much.”

“Truly? The One Spirit is generous indeed this night.”

She opened the box, and nestled within were bottles full of colors. She took out a small brush and removed the tops from three of the paints.

“Why is that?” Red never minded some conversation, but this one seemed a little odd. Maybe he should have learned more about the culture before just diving into this. But the thrill would have been less.
There was always a chance she might be part of a press gang and planned to kidnap him, although with her plain face, it seemed unlikely, despite how desperate for female companionship they might believe men who’d just come into port might be. He had his knife and his wits, and had seen and tussled with enough bandits in his home ports to know the signs. He was getting nothing like that from her so far --although she was definitely a strange one. He’d have tales to take back and share with the others.

Ylis smiled, but her gaze never left the brush as she dipped it with great care into the reddest red he’d ever seen.

“All will be new to you. You won’t already have preconceptions to cloud your judgment.”

Red frowned.  “Cloud my judgment on what?”

Were women like her taboo, perhaps? Or would there be some stigma attached to him for going with her he didn’t know about?

The brush tip touched the end of the strange runes and figures on her exposed arm. The paint seemed to glow for a moment then totally vanished from the brush as if it had never been there. She then dipped the tip into a deep brown color with odd sparkles of light. Red found his gaze trapped by it.

“Why are you here, Red?” Her voice had deepened, but it was hard to tell if it was from rising desire, concentration, or something else entirely.

“Here in this city, or here as in with you?” He was feeling more sober by the minute.

Additional swirls and runes formed on her wrist. New colors joined the first two.

“Yes.”

“It’s what I do. The sea is my life." He shrugged, his gaze still locked on her arm.  "Coming here was a great opportunity, a chance to see new places, new people. And after weeks at sea, like any other man, I crave a little entertainment.”

“Forthright as well. Most interesting…” The runes extended over her palm.

Red forced his gaze away from it.

“What’s this about? Obviously, you have something different in mind than I do. A shame, really…” If this was some strange ruse to rob him, they’d be disappointed. He’d not been paid for this part of the voyage yet.

He felt behind him for the knife tucked in his belt against his back. It did seem like a lot of trouble for just one lone sailor, though, for either a press gang or thievery. He should have definitely paid more attention to the rumors and gossip about this place while at the embassy, even if it would have curbed some of the excitement.

“Indulge me a moment longer, if you would. Everything will become clear presently.” Ylis sounded distracted.

The enclosed space suddenly seemed too pressing. With a glance behind him, Red estimated how far he would have to roll backward to win clear of the covering. Then it would only be a short hop to dive into the water and be free of this strangeness.

With a satisfied sigh, Ylis placed the brush back inside the box and closed the lid. She shifted slightly and turned to look up at him. Her gaze met his, and Red got the uncomfortable feeling she knew his thoughts. Just what had he gotten himself into?

“Look.” She moved her hand so the palm faced in his direction. “It is complete.”

Despite his growing misgivings, he did as she asked. Swirls of blue and gold surrounded a ring of silver. Inside it, centered on her palm, was an eye.

It blinked.

Cold chills rushed to cover his arms with gooseflesh; he hadn’t the faintest idea how a drawing could do such a thing.

“By the Kings, what is…”

Ylis leaned forward, her palm lashing out. It struck him dead in the center of the chest.

Red fell off the bench onto his back but barely noticed. His chest burned with cold and fire where she’d touched him, and faster than the ripples of water that formed from a thrown rock, the sensation spread through his whole body. He tried to move, to scream, but all was denied him. He could feel things within and without shifting—his bones, his muscles, his skin—as if his body had become self-aware and decided to change.

Then, all at once, it stopped.

“It is done.”

Feeling that his body was his again, Red tried to squirm away from her.

“What is done? What did you do?”

Something wasn’t right here. His voice sounded strange. The pitch was too high. His back smacked against the middle pole holding up the entryway. Using it for leverage, he stumbled to his feet. His right hand reached for his knife; the weapon seemed heavier than it should. He felt shaky and weak.

Fear grew in a tight kernel in his belly, although he wasn’t yet sure what was going on.

“Tell me what you did! Why do I feel like this?”

“You are what you could have been had your fate been different. Look.” Ylis didn’t hold her palm up like before but instead nodded toward him. Red glanced at her hand anyway and saw that all the paint and runes were gone. More magic!

He brought the knife up higher. It was then he noticed his hand. The blade looked larger than it should have in comparison. Then he realized the knife was not the problem, it was the hand. It wasn’t his!

Staring down at himself, he realized he was shorter, that his clothes hung on him loosely. Instead of the chest with the soft coating of red hair women enjoyed running their fingers through, beneath his sagging shirt he was hairless and sported a set of small, perky breasts.

He swallowed hard, a part of his mind screaming in denial. His breath came in short shallow gasps as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. His eyes lost focus, his brain numbed as it fought to understand the impossible.


The interior of the skiff spun around him. A bone-deep weariness abruptly swept through him, as if he’d spent days swabbing the deck and fighting pirates. Blackness crowded the edges of his vision then swooped in, and although he fought internally to remain conscious, that, too, was soon denied him.


Saturday, December 07, 2013

Inner Demons - Sample Chapter 2

Due to Icemaggedon we didn't get to go to the movies last night. :(
So rather than leave you with nothing, here's chapter 2 of Inner Demons
Urban Fantasy novel that should be available in print and ebook formats in late Jan 2014!

In case you missed it - here's a link to Chapter 1


Chapter 2

The pimple-faced kid behind the counter ogled me as I came up, trying to keep my balance on the boots' high heels. You'd think he'd never seen a psychedelically dressed black woman before. The thought made me giggle, which only served to scare me. I was losing it.
“What's the street address here?”
“Uh, yeah, sure, 9836 Beechnut.”
Then the hard part. “And the city?”
That got me a raised brow. “Houston, of course.”
The wave of relief at hearing I was still in my home city made me weak at the knees. “Do you have a pay phone?”
Instead of answering he pointed back toward the bathrooms. He was no longer ogling, but studying me to determine if I was about to cause some trouble.
“Thanks.” I put as much heartfelt gratitude as I could to try to ease his suspicions, already having had more than my fill of weirdness for one night. “I'll have a medium Coke, please.”
The ten I put on the counter seemed to alleviate his worries more than my smile had. As long as he gave me some change for the phone, I didn't care.
I took the empty cup and my money and made the call. The cab showed up less than twenty minutes later.
The Yellow Cab added to my sense of ease, the bright cars a familiar part of the Houston landscape. The driver didn't bat an eye at my 'loud' appearance, for which I was grateful.  I gave him my address, and we got underway.
My eyes stung as we came within sight of my apartment complex. I'd never been so happy to see anything in my life. I paid the driver and then just stood at the security gate staring at the white clubhouse with its dark red Spanish tiled roof. I managed to make it to the clunky keypad without falling on my face and slipped inside the complex.
My steps echoed eerily into the dark as I followed the sidewalk amidst the manicured trees and lawn toward building 4C. My eager steps slowed as I got close. Growing dread bubbled up past my previous elation.
I came to a stop five steps from my apartment door.
My last memories, before finding myself on that dark street alone, were of the apartment. So whatever had happened to me had started here. And there was nothing to say it couldn't happen again.
My arms and legs broke out in goose bumps.
The red door with its silver 102 below the peephole, the tiled entryway covered by the dark wood underside of the stairs leading to the apartment above – it had always been a welcomed sight. Yet for reasons I couldn't name, it now seemed alien and menacing. I shifted from one foot to the other, rubbing my arms with my hands while staring at it, feeling cold though the night was warm.
I'd never been one to back down, though – not with the pushers trying to hook us on drugs in middle school, not with the racists that harassed me in high school, or even the few prejudiced college students or teachers at Rice. I hadn't run from any of that then and I wouldn't start doing it now. Nothing was going to stop me from going into my own apartment. There might be answers there.
Yet those last few steps ended up being harder to manage than anything I'd done before. Dread and fear mingled inside me, throwing warnings at me, yelling at me not to do this, that I'd be sorry, and I didn't understand why. My throat clogged up tight.
Concentrating to keep my breathing steady, I took the last step which put me before the door. The spot between my shoulder blades twinged and I glanced behind me, but there was no one there. I reached for the key in the small handbag and felt my fear double as I saw the skull keychain again. It wasn't me, it wasn't mine. My hand shook as I inserted the key into the lock and turned it.
The euphoria because it worked lasted less than a moment, for an open door meant I could go inside and it was the last thing I really wanted to do.
I pushed the door open, but didn't go in. The twinge between my shoulders grew painful. The interior of the apartment was dark. Taking a deep breath and holding it, I reached past the threshold and flicked on the interior hall light.
I exhaled with one long breath of relief as the light showed me nothing but the familiar. The space before me was still the same white, gray, and red tile of the foyer, the plush gray carpet filling the hall. I could even see the edge of my comfy couch just where it should be. Chiding myself for my bizarre apprehension, I took a tentative step inside.
Nothing changed. Everything looked exactly as it should.
I closed the door behind me and locked it.
Never taking my gaze off the hallway before me, I unzipped the uncomfortable boots and took them off. I held onto one of them, twisted around with the spiked heel in front in case I needed an impromptu weapon. Though I knew this was home and everything seemed fine, that heavy sense of dread was still clamped tight to my chest. I inched forward, listening for anything untoward.
My hand went around the corner and switched on the kitchen lights. Brightness flooded the room and bled out into the living room over the open counter.
I spotted a red flowing lava lamp on the coffee table. A shiver ran down my back. I didn't own a lava lamp. Had someone broken in here while I'd been gone? Steering away from the thought, I quickly moved around the room and switched on every lamp then surveyed the place again. The twinge grew into a yank between my shoulders as I noticed other little changes.
Food stains on my gray couch. Water rings on my polished coffee table. Dust on the picture frames and floor corners.
Dust…
I'd only been gone for a few hours…why would there be dust? I shied away from the question, sure I wouldn't like the answer and instead moved from room to room turning on more and more lights.
At my bedroom, I swayed at the doorway, my chest so tight I couldn't breathe. The room was nothing like I'd left it. Gone were the off-white, comforting, textured walls. Instead, it was currently painted in blood red with a crackle black overlay. A metallic black four-poster bed with red satin sheets and comforter had replaced my maple sleigh style bed. A huge flat screen TV took up a chunk of one wall where I'd had several oil landscapes. Video recording equipment sat beneath it, as well as standing lights. New shelving on the walls held more lava lamps of different colors and an assortment of accouterments that only belonged in X-rated or gothic films.
I stepped back, shaking my head in denial. This couldn't be my apartment. That wasn't my room.
Turning around, I gazed at my home office. Before I could think about what I was doing, I stepped inside, the familiarity of the room making it that much easier to ignore the other.
The computer was on, a screen saver of running half naked nuns flashing on the screen. I leapt forward and hit the mouse to make it go away. Pop-ups for AIM messages were all over the screen. The login was for someone called ChocolateLover. I scanned a few of them thinking they might hold a clue. I quickly regretted it.
Requests for sex talks. Queries as to when ChocolateLover would be on tonight. Demands she give in to their fantasies. Some even offered money or goods if she'd only meet with them in person.
Grabbing the mouse, I frantically closed all the rest of the boxes, having had enough. Then I moved the cursor down to the corner for the system date. My eyes grew wider and wider until I thought they'd pop out of my head. The computer said it was Friday, July 23rd.
I let go of the mouse as if it'd bit me. No, it was April, April 15th! It couldn't possibly be July. This was all a joke. A sick twisted joke.
I grabbed the mouse again and double clicked the icon to pull up my browser. I clicked the Favorites folder and then the link to the US Time website. The screen pulled up showing the time, day, and date – July 23rd.
No… No…
My knees quivered. Then I fell down to the carpet, my hands shaking, my brain numb.
This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be right!
Someone had to know what was going on. Someone had to be able to help me. Debbie! The thought of my best friend gave me a jolt and I could think straight again. Debbie would have some idea, some clue.
Despite the tiny voice in the back of my head saying that was unlikely, it was still something to cling to. I rose shakily to my feet and stumbled back out to the kitchen. I still hadn't seen a trace of my iPhone, but I'd kept the landline after setting up DSL so could use that instead.
The phone had changed from a non-descript cordless to a giant set of red lips. Trying not to think about it, I picked up the top.
I punched in Debbie's number, heart racing, ideas popping up one after the other as to what might have happened and being dismissed just as quickly. Lost Time. I'd heard the term, but couldn't remember if it related to aliens or mental conditions or what. Aliens, there was an even more remote possibility. This wasn't the X-Files. Aliens made great TV but didn't hold up to reality. Split personalities though, schizophrenia, those were real things, documented, studied. But I wasn't mental. I would have noticed something before this, wouldn't I?
The phone started ringing on the other end and I forced my thoughts to still. I held my breath as the other end picked up. Tears prickled the corner of my eyes as I heard the familiar voice.
“Hello?” She sounded hesitant, and that's when I realized I'd never called her from the landline before. My name didn't show on her cell phone, only the number.
“Debbie, thank God. I'm so glad to hear your voice!”
There was only silence from the other end. It'd been three months, (oh god, three months!) maybe she didn't recognize my voice? “Debbie?”
“Who is this?” The question was hard, cold. I didn't understand it.
“It's Tamara. Listen, something weird is going—”
The phone went dead. She'd hung up on me… I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it, dread chomping at me from the inside.
I redialed. The phone rang three times then went to voicemail. I didn't leave a message, just disconnected and tried again. Why wouldn't she pick up? My sense of dread jumped up a couple of more notches. By the third time I was desperate. “Debbie, please! I don't understand. I need your help! Something weird is going on. My apartment, my clothes, the time. Look, I, I don't get any of this, but if I, if I somehow did something to offend you… I can come over if you don't want to talk on the phone. You're my best friend, and I really need your help.”
I hung up and stared at the phone, willing her to call me back. But as the minutes ticked away, the certainty that she wouldn't grew inside me. Yet why would I think that?
The lip phone shrilled out, making me jump though I'd hoped for a call.
Caller ID on the answering machine flashed Debbie's number. I felt a shot of hope. It didn't last long.
“If? You say if you did something to offend me?” Her breathing was fast and heavy. “And don't you dare get within a hundred feet of my house! If I see you, I'll shoot you dead!”
She was mad, more than mad, furious. I'd known Debbie since we hooked up as lab partners in college. As all friends do, we'd had some fights on occasion but never had she sounded so full of anger. “Debbie, I…I don't understand. What happened?”
There was a harsh laugh on the other end of the line. It was full of bitterness, and thorns, and wasn't anything I'd ever heard from her before. “Okay, I'll play.” Another bark of a laugh. “Richie. You remember Richie, my fiancĂ©, don't you, bitch?”
It wasn't anger. It was hate, pure unadulterated hate and it was aimed at me. I almost dropped the phone at the realization. How long had this been building inside her? How long had she been waiting for an opportunity to vent her rage? “Y-yes?”
“And June first, June first rings a bell, doesn't it?”
Oh no, I'd missed the wedding. Debbie had talked of nothing for months except of being a June bride. I was supposed to be her maid of honor. Was that where all of this was coming from? Deep from inside me a whisper said 'no'. I was cold all over. “Yes.”
“And I bet you remember the night you went to see him, too. The one where you got him drunk. And gave him pills. Where you had sex with him?” Again the bitter laugh rang in my ears. Numbness crawled up my arm and spread all over me. I'd done what?
“And how you then brought him to my house at three in the morning and left him on my doorstep naked and bombed out of his mind for me to find? Is any of that ringing any bells for you?”
No, it wasn't. But what was worse was the fact I didn't doubt her in the least. As if I already knew it was true. Which made no sense at all. I would have never done something like this to her, never. Yet seemingly I had. Disgust and horror swelled up my throat. “Debbie, I…”
“Just die, bitch, and never, ever call me again!”

The line went dead, but I barely noticed. I slid to the floor, the phone falling from my hand.



Stay warm everyone! 
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