Since I have been oh-so-lacking in my updates, I thought I would get back to the Friday Writing category and share a little of the upcoming Progeny novella, Given No Halo. This one is inspired by my late, great friend, Angel. I promised her I would make her a demigod character and I keep my promises. It is told from her perspective and this is just some raw writing, so take it as such.
The story is about the daughter of Ares, the Greek god of war. Only Angel doesn’t keep the family tradition very well. Still, her nature and motivations sure as hell keep her in the thick of things. When she intervenes in a domestic violence situation, what begins as a simple warning turns into a desperate fight for the survival of hundreds of thousand s of innocent lives at the hand of one of Angel’s old enemies. The past can sometimes catch up to you in the worst possible way. Hopefully, Angel will survive to tell the tale.
GIVEN NO HALO
Excerpt: “Beaten”
I fumbled with the lock and let my weight fall against the door. It gave way and I struggled to maintain my footing. Christ! I hurt everywhere. Those bastards were going to pay for this. I should’ve known he would behind it all. I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. All those years ago, I would never have thought he would come this far. He had at least twenty men at that compound. I was stupid. Those are the kind of mistakes I can’t afford to make.
I wiped the blood from my mouth, brushing it along the rear end of my jeans like some half-assed painter. I needed some ice. Stumbling for the kitchen, one eye swollen almost shut, I fumbled at the buckle of my holster belt with the fingers on my good left hand. I knew at least two of the ones on my right were broken. I’d have to reset them before the healing kicked in. First, ice.
I let the belt fall to my calves as I fiddled with the leather strings holding the holsters to my thighs. It fell with a muffled thump and I moved to the refrigerator. Shoveling a handful of ice into a damp hand towel, I tied the ends together and eased it to my face, breathing a sigh of minor relief.
How the hell did Sofia get tangled up with that guy. Shit. This was going to get messy. Not that it was any walk in the fucking park as it stood. At least I was alive. Barely.
I plopped down on the sofa, laying back and closing my eyes beneath the cool cloth. Situating the icy cloth over the bridge of my nose, I felt the fingers on my right hand. The middle one and the pinky finger, both broken. I grimaced and jerked them back into a decent semblance of normality, huffing out the pain through my bloodied mouth. I felt the blood fly off into the unseen distance. Great. I was going to need some serious cleaning in this place, now. Maybe I could hire one of those crime scene crews without too much hubbub. Worth a shot.
I was drifting off, letting the healing begin when I heard the door swing open. I got ready, retrieving the Firestorm I kept hidden in the sofa cushions. Call me paranoid, but one can never have enough guns stashed for a rainy day. To my surprise, it was Sofia. I suppose I was really a sight to see, all beaten and bloodied. She gasped, her hand over her mouth and rushed to my side.
“What happened?” she asked, one hand reaching out but stopping just before touching my split lip, while the other dropped her purse by the sofa.
“Grist happened. It was a set up.” It was funny hearing my words, all wet and slurred. I needed rest and time to heal. “What’re you doing here?” I wondered how she even knew where I lived. Not that it wasn’t a pleasant surprise. Those mocha eyes stared into mine for a long moment.
“I got your address from Connie. I just wanted to thank you.” She paused, staring at me from head to foot. “Why can’t you let things go?”
“Not in my nature, toots,” I replied. Somehow I had not noticed, but I felt that a few ribs might be cracked, as well. When I get my hands on Grist…
“Well, at least let me take care of you. Where is your first aid kit?”
“Under the bathroom sink. Down the hall to the left.” I lay there and bled while she retrieved the over-utilized kit.
“Not much left in here,” she commented, as she rummaged through for some antiseptic pads. “You might want to restock.”
“Right.” It was all I could manage. I could feel my body beginning the healing process. Thank the gods for deific parents. At least I got something out of the whole thing. I wondered if he could see me now. Probably not all too proud of his daughter at the moment, I bet.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my body beginning to relax after all of the adrenalin and stress of the last couple of hours.
“Someone has to take care of you,” she replied with a strange tone in her voice. “And, I’m just the person to do it.”
I was about to thank her, when I felt the needle go through my jeans and enter my thigh. I jerked awake, flinging the cloth full of ice at Sofia, knocking her backwards. That should end up a very nice black eye. I stood, ready to kick her ass even in my current state when I felt the drugs. Whatever she used, it was damned powerful. Most sedatives don’t have much effect on me, with my heritage and all. But, I sure as hell felt this stuff. Damn.
“Why?” I asked as the world spun and I fell back onto the sofa. She stood and looked down at me. She was fading into the darkness of my unconsciousness.
“I had no choice. He made me do it.”
Her lovely face was lost to the blackness.
One of the current on-going conversations surrounding epublishing and ebooks is the pricing thing. How do you price a document that has no “physical” (or, even, to an extent, distribution) costs?
