So, apparently I'm terrible at remembering dates, and have been absent from my blog dates...sorry. I've also not been paying attention to release dates and the two new ones snuck up on me. The first of which came out last week.
Dyre was a priest until he lost faith, which is a dangerous thing when
the Church still burns people at the stake. But Dyre’s loss of faith
makes him useful. He becomes one of the Faithless, a demon hunter with a
cursed sword. His keeper, Isaiah, an Inquisitor, has become very close
to him after years of companionship. But as Isaiah’s softest touch burns
Dyre, can the two ever really be more than companions?
This one is part of a brand new world I intend to explore a bit more thoroughly later. Dyre is an old friend, as it were, and follows in line of my love for emotionally unstable partners. I stepped a bit out of my comfort zone with this one, to be honest, but I think it was for the best. Here's a quick teaser before we move to today's new release.
The sword was black. From hilt to tip, the blade blackened by flame,
the leather of the hilt by blood, the sweeping line uninterrupted by a
hand guard. Inlaid with unholy symbols, it held the power of demons it
had slain. A sword forever cursed by the blood of an innocent spilled
on its making. That's what they told me. It radiated menace.
Its matching scabbard was human flesh, tattooed with screaming
faces. The priest in front of me held it out on a piece of black silk.
The priest was not Isaiah, this was a man I had never seen before. A
withered old man with shaking hands.
"Do you accept the sword and all that goes with it?"
"I do." Like I had a choice.
The priest nodded. I reached out a hand, and took the sword,
drawing it from the scabbard as I lifted it away from the silk. I could
feel the presence of it, but it didn't reject me, it didn't quite
welcome me either, it simply,
"Hello." I whispered. "Happy to see me?"
The priest said nothing.
Isaiah, watching from the wings, smiled. "I think you two are going to do very well together... what shall we call you?"
I wasn't Max anymore, I was Faithless now. No Christian name
could be claimed by a Faithless. "Dyre." I smiled. "My name is Dyre."
Today's new release, Ame, *that's Rain in Japanese* is my first exploration of the Night Wars world outside of the USA and Fynn's gang, introducing Takashi, a troubled young man with connections to the Yakuza. I wanted to dive into Japanese mythology here and had a whole lot of fun with the research. Here's a little snippet:
My heartbeat quickened as I braced for what was to come. I dropped down after she passed, slipping the wire around her delicate neck. I pulled it taut, bracing myself for the struggle, but she didn't. I looked at her, she had dropped the lantern and a hand was trapped between the wire and her windpipe. I watched in horror as her hair began to move of its own accord to form thick tentacles that wrapped around my wrists. The back of her head split open to form a mouth with sharp
teeth and a long pointed tongue that whipped out and licked my face.
I had heard stories about creatures such as this from my grandmother, but never in all my
life had I thought they were real. I spent my life in the shadows and this night showed
me a deeper darkness was still waiting to be discovered. I was frozen. For the first time
I could remember since starting this work, I was frozen in fear. My hands slackened, the
wire fell uselessly to the ground.
She twisted around to face me, smiling. Swifter than I could follow, a tendril of hair
pulled a knife from is depths. It flashed in the light cast by the fallen lantern as it swept
Skin pushed away from the blade as it made its way toward the thick vein in my neck.
Blood, red and burning, gushed forth. She stepped back to avoid getting any on her. She
smiled still, those lips the color of cherry blossoms. I collapsed to the ground, clutching
"My apologies Takashi, but you are no longer useful," she said. My hands slipped in the
blood. She laughed, a pretty, chime-like sound. She turned, bending gracefully to retrieve
her lantern and walking away. The second mouth laughed too, a horrible clashing. The
tongue wagged and the hair waved a mocking goodbye with the knife. The rain continued
to fall, the blood mixing with the mud around me, a bit of warmth while my body grew
cold. How could I freeze? I never froze. How could that be real? How? I could still hear
her laughter as my world pitched into dark.