A brief teaser of Chapter 4: Waking Up -
A tremor rakes Cecilia's body as Belial stands over her, one of several to have occurred in the last fifteen minutes. He takes a step back from her, watching the fur sprouting out on the back of her hands. Every hair on the back of his neck is standing up as he watches.
Belial knows he should turn his back, walk out of this room and proceed to leave the building. His mind is screaming at him to do just that, but he doesn't. Instead he just backs up slightly as he watches the transformation start.
She arches off the bed before falling back to the bed, the sound of her vertebrae snapping from the violent motion overshadows the sound of bones in her arms and legs snapping. Her arm lurches violently outward as her body twists in on itself. The shape of her back changing and forcing itself inwards, into the form of a wolf's back.
If Belial had never seen this before, he'd be running for the hills about now.
Showing posts with label The Wish of the Damned. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Wish of the Damned. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 5, 2019
Monday, December 24, 2018
The Wish of the Damned Sneak Peek
A brief teaser of Chapter 3: Voyeuristic Dreams -
Three days have passed since Belial's first visit to the hospital, but she still hasn't woke up. He ought to know, he's visited everyday. He knows it's foolish to go there everyday, after all, he only met her once and not for that long of a time.
Giving the cops her name had proven useful, with it, they had been able to identify her. They'd tried to keep what they discovered from Belial, but he heard anyways. A girl born to a vagrant mother and an unknown father was taken and put through the system at a very young age, moved from one foster house to another until she was old enough to get her own place. It explained a lot to him, most specifically, why she didn't know what she was and why she didn't recognize him.
In simple, layman terms, she'd never been told. Though he does wonder if her genes had been passed from her mother or her father.
He gets up and walks over to the window, looking below at the city bustling with life. It looks nothing like the Detroit of even a decade ago, back then, the city had looked like a ghost town with very few walking on the street in broad day light, let alone at dusk, as it is now.
Belial's been sitting with Cecilia most of the day, being a Saturday, he didn't have to work. He didn't even have to come to this area of the city, but he'd found a decent excuse to come. He still hadn't bought the blasted remote he needs to get in order to replace the one he'd broke in his anger. Of course, now it's too late to go to the local electronics store. A good excuse for tomorrow night, and since tomorrow's the first night of the full moon, he's going to be here – excuse or not.
Three days have passed since Belial's first visit to the hospital, but she still hasn't woke up. He ought to know, he's visited everyday. He knows it's foolish to go there everyday, after all, he only met her once and not for that long of a time.
Giving the cops her name had proven useful, with it, they had been able to identify her. They'd tried to keep what they discovered from Belial, but he heard anyways. A girl born to a vagrant mother and an unknown father was taken and put through the system at a very young age, moved from one foster house to another until she was old enough to get her own place. It explained a lot to him, most specifically, why she didn't know what she was and why she didn't recognize him.
In simple, layman terms, she'd never been told. Though he does wonder if her genes had been passed from her mother or her father.
He gets up and walks over to the window, looking below at the city bustling with life. It looks nothing like the Detroit of even a decade ago, back then, the city had looked like a ghost town with very few walking on the street in broad day light, let alone at dusk, as it is now.
Belial's been sitting with Cecilia most of the day, being a Saturday, he didn't have to work. He didn't even have to come to this area of the city, but he'd found a decent excuse to come. He still hadn't bought the blasted remote he needs to get in order to replace the one he'd broke in his anger. Of course, now it's too late to go to the local electronics store. A good excuse for tomorrow night, and since tomorrow's the first night of the full moon, he's going to be here – excuse or not.
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
An Introduction to the Characters of The Wish of the Damned
The Wish of the Damned may or may not end up being part of a larger series, but in this first book there are only a handful of characters that play a major role in the story. Three to be exact.
Tyre/Belial is the primary character of this story. His history date back thousands of years though the details of his life will be slow to be revealed. He's a tortured individual whose afraid to open his heart to yet another after losing the last woman he loved. He usually looks older to most people but his appearance can change to fit what he wants the people who look at him to see, he's sarcastic and blunt, and he's ultimately deadly.
Temperance was a human woman who fell in love with Tyre. She gave him a child by the name of Serenity. Neither their daughter nor her had a chance to truly live. A group of hellhounds killed both her and their child before it was their time.
Finally there is Cecilia, a young woman of twenty-six who has just had her life upended when her dormant nature is awoken and she transforms into a hellhound for her first time. Forced to realize there's a whole world of supernatural that she never knew about she clings to the man who offered to teach her control.
Tyre/Belial is the primary character of this story. His history date back thousands of years though the details of his life will be slow to be revealed. He's a tortured individual whose afraid to open his heart to yet another after losing the last woman he loved. He usually looks older to most people but his appearance can change to fit what he wants the people who look at him to see, he's sarcastic and blunt, and he's ultimately deadly.
Temperance was a human woman who fell in love with Tyre. She gave him a child by the name of Serenity. Neither their daughter nor her had a chance to truly live. A group of hellhounds killed both her and their child before it was their time.
Finally there is Cecilia, a young woman of twenty-six who has just had her life upended when her dormant nature is awoken and she transforms into a hellhound for her first time. Forced to realize there's a whole world of supernatural that she never knew about she clings to the man who offered to teach her control.
Wednesday, December 5, 2018
The Wish of the Damned Sneak Peek
A small teaser of Chapter 2: Small Delights:
The news comes on at six am, the same time it comes on everyday. Usually he doesn't pay much attention to it, there's generally nothing on to which concerns him. He pulls a clean blue t-shirt over his head just as the tv blares with the solemn voice saying 'Breaking News,' and then a picture of an old woman that he's scarcely seen twelve hours prior appears on the screen.
The newscaster states, “Seventy-six year old, Elizabeth Jameson, has been found dead at her estate in quadrant ten. The millionaire tycoon is known best for her development of the cures to several known cancers and aids, as well as many other malignant diseases. So far, the police are being tight-lipped on details of her death. But from an inside source, we've been told that it appears an animal killed her.” There's a brief pause to add suspense before the newscaster continues. “In a second story bedroom with no windows open and no pets.”
Belial turns away from the screen in rage. “All I did was touch her for a second,” he grinds the words out from between his teeth. “She didn't deserve to die.”
Still, it's useless saying it. It's useless talking to the heavens, because there's no one there listening, not to him, not anymore. Perhaps they never had. He grabs the remote from the base of the bed and hurls it against the far wall. The satisfying crash does not make up for the fact that he will now have to buy a new remote. He glowers at the chunks of remote on the floor before going over to them and picking them up.
The news comes on at six am, the same time it comes on everyday. Usually he doesn't pay much attention to it, there's generally nothing on to which concerns him. He pulls a clean blue t-shirt over his head just as the tv blares with the solemn voice saying 'Breaking News,' and then a picture of an old woman that he's scarcely seen twelve hours prior appears on the screen.
The newscaster states, “Seventy-six year old, Elizabeth Jameson, has been found dead at her estate in quadrant ten. The millionaire tycoon is known best for her development of the cures to several known cancers and aids, as well as many other malignant diseases. So far, the police are being tight-lipped on details of her death. But from an inside source, we've been told that it appears an animal killed her.” There's a brief pause to add suspense before the newscaster continues. “In a second story bedroom with no windows open and no pets.”
Belial turns away from the screen in rage. “All I did was touch her for a second,” he grinds the words out from between his teeth. “She didn't deserve to die.”
Still, it's useless saying it. It's useless talking to the heavens, because there's no one there listening, not to him, not anymore. Perhaps they never had. He grabs the remote from the base of the bed and hurls it against the far wall. The satisfying crash does not make up for the fact that he will now have to buy a new remote. He glowers at the chunks of remote on the floor before going over to them and picking them up.
Monday, November 12, 2018
The Wish of the Damned Sneak Peek
A small teaser of Chapter 1: Unbeknownst ---
“Where's your stop?” she asks, trying to be friendly.
Her psychologist, where she just came from, had just got through the regular session of castigating her. Well, it isn't her fault she is such a late bloomer. At twenty-six, she is still flat chested and thin hipped with no monthly flow at all. The doctors simply have no clue why, and so they keep on telling her she's just a late bloomer. Still, her psychologist had made a very loud point to her today, telling her she needs to open up, and so she's deciding to try.
“Two stops from here, I'm heading home from work.”
His voice is melodic and smooth, so very smooth, it's like listening to the running of a river. It makes her take a second look at him. She knows his stop and not because it's hers, but because it's quadrant nine – the rich section of Detroit. His hair is overgrown and he has a day or two's stubble on his chin. He wears a heavy duty plaid jacket and a filthy looking t-shirt underneath. His pants, a pair of dark blue suit pants, look like they have seen far too many years of misuse. She never would have guessed he was rich, maybe it's the point to his entire getup.
“Oh, I see, I'm going to quadrant twelve, but I live in fifteen.”
“The ghettos,” he says, his voice quiet. He turns to look more fully at her, “Why are you stopping in twelve? There's nothing there but warehouses and shit, do you work down there?”
She was quite sure he meant shit literally. “No, there's a bar there that I like to go to.”
He isn't wrong about calling fifteen the ghettos as the quadrant has more homeless in it than the rest of Detroit combined. Still it hurt to hear it called that. Her apartment is cozy, and she keeps it together, she even has a small ladies .32 caliber revolver – it cost her almost a year's worth of her menial salary to get it – to help her defend against unwelcome guests. The .32 being the second largest gun civilians are allowed to carry with the largest being a .38. She's quite proud that she has it.
She can't think of anything else to say to him, so the silence draws on as they near his stop.
“Where's your stop?” she asks, trying to be friendly.
Her psychologist, where she just came from, had just got through the regular session of castigating her. Well, it isn't her fault she is such a late bloomer. At twenty-six, she is still flat chested and thin hipped with no monthly flow at all. The doctors simply have no clue why, and so they keep on telling her she's just a late bloomer. Still, her psychologist had made a very loud point to her today, telling her she needs to open up, and so she's deciding to try.
“Two stops from here, I'm heading home from work.”
His voice is melodic and smooth, so very smooth, it's like listening to the running of a river. It makes her take a second look at him. She knows his stop and not because it's hers, but because it's quadrant nine – the rich section of Detroit. His hair is overgrown and he has a day or two's stubble on his chin. He wears a heavy duty plaid jacket and a filthy looking t-shirt underneath. His pants, a pair of dark blue suit pants, look like they have seen far too many years of misuse. She never would have guessed he was rich, maybe it's the point to his entire getup.
“Oh, I see, I'm going to quadrant twelve, but I live in fifteen.”
“The ghettos,” he says, his voice quiet. He turns to look more fully at her, “Why are you stopping in twelve? There's nothing there but warehouses and shit, do you work down there?”
She was quite sure he meant shit literally. “No, there's a bar there that I like to go to.”
He isn't wrong about calling fifteen the ghettos as the quadrant has more homeless in it than the rest of Detroit combined. Still it hurt to hear it called that. Her apartment is cozy, and she keeps it together, she even has a small ladies .32 caliber revolver – it cost her almost a year's worth of her menial salary to get it – to help her defend against unwelcome guests. The .32 being the second largest gun civilians are allowed to carry with the largest being a .38. She's quite proud that she has it.
She can't think of anything else to say to him, so the silence draws on as they near his stop.
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