St. David's Day 1848 by Frank W Butterfield
Summary:A Nick & Carter Holiday #6
Wednesday, March 1, 1848
It's the dark and early morning hours of St. David's Day and Griffith Williams, nestled and cozy next to his dear friend, Gwyn, is abruptly awakened by a man who calls out in a strange voice.
"Great-grandfather?"
Griffy is startled to see the shimmering form of a handsome man with bright and shining eyes. And they're a color of brown he's not seen before.
The face, however, is more than a little familiar. With a dimple in the chin, it brings to mind memories of his late father, his tad, David.
Is it evil or is it good which has brought forth this ghostly vision?
Beyond the veil and away from the rivers of time, Paul Williams is organizing a small party.
A luncheon, if you will.
He has summoned Nicholas, his great-nephew, and Janet, his great-niece, and has asked their beloveds to join in the festivities.
The main course of their other-worldly meal will be a plain but sumptuous cawl cennin, a leek and potato soup, the perfect dish for a Welsh holiday.
And the guest of honor?
His very own father, Griffith Williams.
Paul has a message and the time, as it were, has come for him to deliver it.
On St. David's Day, no less.
This is a short story, set mostly outside of time, and containing about 5,100 words.
Original Review March 2022:
Again, having not read any of Nick and Carter's journey previously, I felt like there might be a question or two that went unanswered for me but they were "holes" that didn't effect this short story. I was never lost. Truth is, St. David's Day, 1848 is outside the era parameters in the series descriptions done in a way that is both dream and fantasy.
I won't say too much for those who like me have yet to discover Frank W Butterfield's Nick and Carter saga but I will say, I loved the uniqueness of St. David's Day, 1848. The blending of dream, fantasy, historical, and family really worked here and has furthered my hunger to one day read Nick and Carter from the beginning. Short, sweet, and highly entertaining.
RATING:
Summary:
Stanley is almost fifty. He hates his job, has an overbearing mother, and is in a failed relationship. Then he meets Asher, the man of his dreams, literally in his dreams.
Asher is young, captivating, and confident about his future—everything Stanley is not. So, Asher gives Stan a gift. The chance to be an extra five years younger each time they meet.
Some of their adventures are whimsical. A few are challenging. Others are totally surreal. All are designed to bring Stan closer to the moment his joyful childhood turned to tears.
But when they fall in love, Stan knows he can’t live in Asher’s dreamworld. Yet he is haunted by Asher’s invitation to “slip into eternal sleep.”
Summary:
Sucker for Love Mysteries #3
Private investigator Sloane Beaumont should be enjoying his recent engagement to eldritch god Azaethoth the Lesser, AKA Loch. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have time for a pre-honeymoon period.
The trouble starts with a deceptively simple missing persons case. That leads to the discovery of mass kidnappings, nefarious secret experiments, and the revelation that another ancient god is trying to bring about the end of the world by twisting humans into an evil army.
Just another day at the office.
Sloane does his best to juggle wedding planning, stopping his fiancé from turning the mailman inside out, and meeting his future godly in-laws while working the case, but they're also being hunted by a strange young man with incredible abilities. With the wedding date looming closer, Sloane and Loch must combine their powers to discover the truth—because it’s not just their own happy-ever-after at stake, but the fate of the world….
Beyond the Surface by Colette Davison
Summary:Raen has always longed to see the world beyond the surface, but nothing could compel him to break the most ancient law of the merfolk. Could it?
Raen should have found his mate during his first hunt, instead he almost died. Two years later, he’s struggling with internal fear, and his father’s disapproval.
Until he encounters a land-dweller.
A man he feels a deep and instant connection to.
A man who will drown if Raen doesn’t save him.
But in order to do so, Raen must break two of the merfolk’s rules:
Don’t interact with land-dwellers.
Don’t go beyond the surface.
If Raen saves the man, he stands to lose everything he’s ever known. But if he lets him drown, he’ll lose something infinitely more precious to his heart and soul.
Beyond the Surface is a paranormal MM romance, with fated mates who almost never met, a sweet insta-love relationship, and an age-gap.
Demon's Blood #2
Out of respect for the relationship we once had I will spare your life. However, if you try to obstruct me again then I will kill you.
Vampires are now an endangered species. Possessed by the demon Kurai, Kokawa Taku has sworn to eradicate all those whom he deems inferior.
Determined to free Taku from the demon’s corruption, Thane seeks help from Taku’s sire, Takata Koji. Thane’s search for answers takes him to Hong Kong where he learns the devastating truth. That in order to save Taku, Thane may have to kill him.
Refusing to accept this, Thane makes a decision that places the fate of all vampires in the balance. However Thane is unaware of the betrayal around him and that his actions will either save Taku or destroy him.
St. David's Day 1848 by Frank W Butterfield
Along the River Taff
Rhydyfelin, Wales
Wednesday, March 1, 1848
Early morning
Nick walked aboard the boat tied up alongside the rickety dock and, ducking his head, made his way through the door and inside the cabin. He knew it was chilly inside. However, in the small kitchen on the forward end of the boat, he could see a bit of light coming from the stove. He figured there was some coal inside, doing its best to keep the place warm.
In the dark, the interior looked older than he remembered from when he'd visited in his dreams. There was more junk, for one thing, and he had the sense that a kind of dank smell permeated the place.
That made him think of Carter which, for whatever reason, seemed to light up the room for a brief moment.
Smiling to himself, Nick turned and went into the aft part of the boat and found a narrow bed there, pushed to one side. It was covered with a thick pile of wool blankets, none of which were very clean.
Under the heavy covers, he saw the blond head of the man he knew to be Gwyn Owen, his great-grandfather's close friend and lover. Gwyn was snoring, his head bent back a little and his thin nose pointing straight up. A little ball of spit was resting in the corner of the man's mouth.
Just tucked under his chin was the dark and tousled head of Griffith Williams, Nick's great-grandfather.
Neither man was clean, to say the least, and Nick knew the room smelled to high heaven. He was glad Carter hadn't come with him. If he had, his ethereal nose would have been twitching in disgust. Thinking of Carter made the room light up, again.
Gwyn frowned in his sleep and turned on his side.
Griffy (that was the nickname Gwyn had used when Nick had met them in his dreams) shifted as well. Doing so made the covers slip off his face. Reaching up from under, he used a grimy finger to scratch his nose.
"Great-grandfather?"
Griffy sighed to himself but didn't open his eyes.
"Great-grandfather?"
Taking a deep breath and then coughing, Griffy shifted in the bed again. That movement made Gwyn mutter to himself. Nick had no idea what the man was saying. He couldn't tell if it was Welsh or just the sounds that a deep sleeper made when he was disturbed.
"Griffy?" asked Nick.
"What be?" muttered his great-grandfather, his eyes still closed.
"Wake up."
Finally, the man's eyes opened. He took one look at the Nick's ghostly form standing by his bed and frowned.
The Midnight Man by Kevin Klehr
The alarm clock ticked loudly at the side of their bed, and while Francesco snored like a buzz saw clearing a rain forest, Stanley lay awake. It wasn’t his partner who was the cause of his insomnia for Stanley could doze through the wildest storm. In fact, Stanley was sound asleep only ten minutes prior until he thought he heard someone whisper in his ear.
The arms of his alarm clock inched their way toward the number twelve. He sat up and, shortly after, stood and took his dressing gown from the bed post. He remembered hearing the word “eternal” in the sentence that was murmured to him, but the rest of the phrase was hazy.
Numerous cats meowed in unison. Stanley was unnerved. He strode to the living room and peeked through the curtain. Several feline gangs gathered on the front lawn. An eerie wind shook the trees as the cats strolled to the centre of the garden.
Stanley studied the sky. Not a star in sight. Nor was there a cloud above, so the lack of any sign of the universe made no sense. He pondered the end of humanity before concerning himself with his morbid train of thought. The voice whispered again, and Stanley instantly felt drowsy. He sauntered back to the bedroom and fell on top of the sheets.
In his slumber, his dreams began, and in this personal movie he sat at a small round table in a circular room. A crimson curtain wrapped itself around the space.
A crisp white tablecloth fell just above his knees and embossed on a shiny gold card in the middle of his table were the words RESERVED. THE MIDNIGHT MAN.
There were other tables too. All with the same small card and all with either a mature-aged man or woman sitting at them. The only difference was, each of these people were dining and chatting with a younger male companion.
He noted the dress code. Every man, young or old, sported a dinner suit. Stanley also wore one. Each lady was adorned in a stylish black dress.
“Excuse me, sir.” Stanley looked up. A tall waiter with a quaint moustache addressed him. “I’m sorry to say your Midnight Man is running late.”
“Okay,” he replied, mumbling.
With time to spare, Stanley picked up the card. He gazed at it, giving the appearance it aroused his curiosity, but he was actually eavesdropping. He eased back in his chair to listen to the woman who was sitting behind him.
“Interesting conversation?” This questioning voice startled Stanley, but boy, was it sexy. Its honey-rich timbre could invite you to a murder and you’d stay under its spell until the moment the knife was placed in your hand. Stanley looked up to see whose voice it was.
A young man stood with hands in his trouser pockets. His smile sent Stan’s thoughts spinning. Stan knew a genuine grin and this lad had no hidden agendas lurking behind his cordial manner. Stanley was convinced of it.
He measured up to all the best-looking groomsmen Stanley had admired at the various weddings he’d attended. Most of the time it was the best man Stan fancied, especially if they were still playing the field. He’d stare at them wishing to be swept off his feet and carried down the aisle.
This Midnight Man had a crew cut. It’s a cliché to say it was the preferred style of boy next door types, but for Stan, it sealed the deal. Something classic. Something captivating. Something familiar enough to help him not feel old.
“I’m Asher.” He held out his hand. Stanley took it, holding onto it until Asher seated himself at the table.
“You’re beautiful,” Stanley heard himself saying. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be forward. It’s just that…” He covered his mouth momentarily. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“You’re the perfect age.”
“What for? For you?” Asher smirked with bedroom confidence.
“No. No. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re my perfect age. No. I’m not making myself clear, am I?”
Asher reached across the table and tenderly stroked Stanley’s wrists.
“Are you hungry?” Asher asked. “Should I ask the waiter for the menu? I’m looking forward to sitting here and listening to your tales.”
“Strangely, I don’t have an appetite.”
“Me neither.” They were the only people in the room now. “Maybe your dream needs a change of pace.” Asher stood. “Follow me to enchantment, or something close to it.”
Stanley did as he was told. Through the crimson curtain was an opening. As they ventured through the darkness on the other side, music broke through the silence. The floor shook with each beat. The murmur of a crowd brought back many memories for Stanley, and as the laser lights flashed random colour into the void, the crowd became visible. Everyone was Asher’s age. Everyone was male. Stanley reached for Asher’s hand to lead him through this curious scene. They were both dressed differently.
Stanley wore a waistcoat adorned with tiny roses, buttoned tight to expose his chest. Asher wore a blue T-shirt as he strode toward the DJ. Stan looked down at a smiling quarter moon, the oversized design on his belt buckle. He stomped his foot. His shoes were sturdy, leather and unmistakably British.
It’s perfect in every way, he thought. So perfect in fact, he was waiting for the ecstasy to kick in. He worked his way back to Asher.
“Why are you called the Midnight Man?” he yelled over the house tune.
“We’re all Midnight Men,” Asher called back. “Everyone dining with your generation in that restaurant was a Midnight Man.”
“But what does it mean?”
“It’s the time I entered your life—midnight.” His playful grin returned.
Then Stanley felt a change.
First, the music. It sounded hollow, as if someone had played around with an equaliser and got it all wrong. Then, like a jet engine, it soared.
Next, awareness of his own lanky shape was replaced by a oneness with everyone in that huge hall. There were no creaky joints or sagging skin. Decades disappeared. A sense of love so overwhelming consumed him. And in this micro moment, Asher was arguably the most bewitching guy Stanley had ever met in the decades he walked the earth.
Then it hit full charge. The need to dance! The want to take off his waistcoat and sense the sweat, the pleasure, and the energy that took control. He was lost in sensation. He was lost in thoughts that highlighted every positive thing about himself. He hadn’t felt this for a very long time.
And Asher was part of this charge, the best part. A boy at the start of the finest years of his life. Young enough to be sought after and brave enough to seek love from those who’ll fall under his spell.
The guys nearby were eyeing Stanley. A lover Stanley recalled for his kindness at a time when he was finding himself. This guy waved at Stanley. The gesture was returned with an air kiss.
Coming toward them was a guy who sported small mirror tiles on his shoulders, as if he was a walking disco ball. He had similarly mirrored shorts. And he also held a mirror.
To Stanley, this guy wore the face of a human hiding his hurt. Someone wishing others would understand his sadness, yet too polite to talk about his feelings, or cry until there were no more tears. A feeling too familiar.
Stanley raised his arms and shook his butt, encouraging Mirror Man to find his bliss. For a moment, the guy laughed. A door was open, ready for pain to be released. He swung his hips, making his way toward Stanley, so Stanley raised his arms higher to transmit love in all directions. Then the guy held his mirror to Stanley’s face.
There it was. There was no denying it. Stanley was not twenty-one again. He was nearly fifty. A man in need of maturity.
“What is it?” Asher asked.
Mirror Man was nowhere to be seen.
“I’m not meant to be here.”
Stanley sat startled as he found himself opposite Asher back at the restaurant. Both were wearing suits again.
“So, tell me, Stan, where are you meant to be?”
Head Over Tentacles by KL Hiers
Chapter 1
“LOCH,” SLOANE Beaumont began calmly, “you cannot threaten to turn the mailman inside out.”
“But I can,” Loch argued defiantly. “It’s actually really easy once you know how. You just start at the feet and roll the skin upwards—”
“I’m not saying you can’t do it, as in you’re not physically capable of it,” Sloane growled. “You’re an ancient and very powerful god. I have no doubt that you could, but what I am trying to tell you is that you can’t keep threatening him! We’ve been over this!”
“Ah!” Loch nodded in understanding. “What you mean is I should go ahead and do it because a clear example needs to be made!”
“No! Ugh!”
“You are so confusing, but you do look very pretty when you’re mad.” Loch batted his eyes, quickly changing gears. “Your eyebrows are so very luscious and thick, and you remind me so much of that nice human who plays Spork in the movie about trekking through the stars.”
“Hey, focus!” Although Sloane did appreciate the flattering comparison, he was not letting Loch get off so easily. “We’re talking about something important.”
“Mmm, yes. You.”
“Loch.”
“Your eyes are like warm pools of dark chocolate, and your lips, oh, I could go on about your lips for eons!”
“Loch!” Sloane groaned again, sitting down beside him on the couch and taking his hands. “Remember how you can’t reveal that you’re a god because it would cause mass panic since most of the world is Lucian now and believes the old gods aren’t real?”
“Yes!” Loch said cheerfully.
“Turning the mailman inside out? Good way to cause panic!”
“But he keeps wrinkling my catalogues.” Loch huffed. “I like the catalogues. And I like them best when they are not wrinkled. There is a definite crease!”
“Azaethoth!” Sloane scolded, invoking Loch’s true godly name with a growl.
Beneath his red curls and bright green eyes, there was a great dragon of legendary proportions hiding. Loch spent most of his time in his mortal vessel, but Sloane never forgot what he really was under that gorgeous facade. The novelty of scolding an ancient god like a stubborn child was not getting old anytime soon.
Loch pouted and crossed his arms. “Fine. I will fix the creases myself like some peasant.”
“And?”
“And I will not turn the mailman inside out,” Loch added sullenly.
“Thank you,” Sloane breathed, rewarding Loch with a sweet kiss and savoring the minty taste of his lips.
Loch smiled and sent a grayish tentacle out from his sleeve to nuzzle against Sloane’s cheek.
Sloane shuddered pleasurably. Any contact with Loch’s godly flesh was utter bliss. It was still hard to believe sometimes that a giant tentacled dragon was crammed inside that human body.
“Mmm, let me take you to bed,” Loch purred, more of his tentacles slithering out to pull Sloane into his lap. “I want to apologize for my awful behavior.”
“We have a case.” Sloane playfully swatted at him. “Remember? Jay Tintenfisch? Works with Milo? Mysterious disappearing roommate? Cat might be guilty?”
“Yes, I remember, but that can wait until I’m done apologizing.”
“No. We did plenty of that last night and this morning!”
“So? It’s tradition to celebrate an engagement with intense physical coupling—”
“Work first, playtime later.” Sloane wiggled out of Loch’s lap, grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet. “Come on.”
Loch let himself get dragged up from the couch, mumbling, “Fine. We’ll go, but I’m going to complain the whole time.”
“Big surprise.” Sloane chuckled as he led Loch downstairs to his car.
“I liked the old car,” Loch said, huffing as he got settled into the passenger seat. “The old car had personality. This car is shit.”
“The old car got blown up by a very angry witch,” Sloane reminded him.
“Yes, but we shared our first kiss in that car.”
“You mean when you tricked me into kissing you.”
“God of Tricksters,” Loch said with an unapologetic smile.
Sloane rolled his eyes, frowning when his phone rang.
“Hey!” It was Milo Evans, Sloane’s best friend and former coworker when he still worked for the Archersville Police Department as a detective.
“Hey! What’s up, Milo?”
“You need to come by,” Milo insisted. “Like, right now.”
“Right now?” Sloane glanced at the time. “I’m supposed to be meeting with a new client.”
“It’s about the blue goo.”
“Oh?”
“Look, it’ll take, like, five minutes!” Milo sounded particularly excited. “It’s super important! I have to tell you, in person, like right now.”
Sloane flinched, and he glanced sideways at Loch. Milo was known to be passionate even about mundane things, but the blue goo in question was of particular concern. “Okay, we’ll be there in five.”
“Okay! Hurry!”
“What is it?” Loch asked, tilting his head. “Did Milo anger Lynnette again?”
Lynnette was Loch’s little sister; well, technically, she was Lochlain’s little sister—the hot guy whose murder had started it all. Because Loch was living in a copy of Lochlain’s body, Sloane wasn’t sure if the familial connection still counted or not.
Milo and Lynnette had moved in together a few weeks ago, and things had been a bit bumpy.
“No,” Sloane replied, “it’s about that goo.”
“You’re willing to risk tardiness to meet our new client over some magical slime, but not for hot, primal mating?” Loch wrinkled his nose.
“I promise, lots of mating later!” Sloane argued. “This could be important!”
Loch grumbled his protests the entire drive, and Sloane didn’t even wait for him to get out of the car as he hurried to the front door of Lynnette’s house.
Sloane blinked when Milo answered the door with his face covered in black ash, asking carefully, “Are you okay? Is your beard… burned?”
“Oh! I’m good!” Milo patted at his thick beard with a sheepish grin. He was big, broad, and always smiling. He bowed to Loch as he finally caught up. “Nice to see you, Your Most Holy Tentacle-ness!”
Milo was a recent convert to the Sagittarian faith. He was a bit exuberant, but Loch loved the attention.
“Greetings, furry mortal child,” Loch said sweetly, wiggling his fingers in a friendly wave.
“You guys have got to see this!” Milo ushered them inside and led them into the kitchen, where he had set up a small laboratory.
There was still a faint smell of smoke, and judging by the broken glass underfoot, something had definitely exploded.
“What the hell?” Sloane gasped in horror. “Dude, Lynnette is gonna kill you if you don’t clean this up—”
“Just listen,” Milo whined, grabbing a dish towel to wipe off his face. “You first found the blue goo when Lochlain was murdered, right? After Loch took over his body and you guys went back to his apartment to look for clues?”
“Yeah. We also found it at Kunst’s house.”
“After he blew up the car,” Loch helpfully chimed in.
“Right!” Milo confirmed. “All places Bad Robert had been, so we always assumed it was him. But you know where I didn’t find any? In the yard after you went all Starkiller on his ass.”
“So?”
“I found some definite worm slime, but it’s not the same stuff as the goo. Follow me here for a second. I think the blue goo belongs to another god,” Milo said slowly.
“Are you freakin’ serious?” Sloane scoffed and exchanged a worried glance with Loch. The old gods were not known for their sanity, most of them having gone insane when they went into their deep slumber.
“Yeah,” Milo replied with a grimace. “I’ve been blowing myself up all morning testing it again to be sure.” He grabbed two plates from the counter, offering them for Sloane’s inspection. “Look for yourself. Lefty is the original blue goo, all refined down. Right is the slime from Bad Robert.”
Sloane held up his hands to form a triangle for a perception spell. He recognized the blue residue immediately, the holographic aura familiar and equally uncomfortable. The worm slime had a similar shine, but Milo was right.
They weren’t the same.
“It’s definitely godly. Like, for sure. We know it’s not Loch, and if it’s not Bad Robert… well.” Milo eyed Loch. “Any idea who might have been awake running around with your brother trying to end the world?”
“How much time do we have?” Loch retorted dryly. “It’s a long list.”
“Seriously.” Sloane squeezed Loch’s arm. “Can’t you, like, go back to Zebulon and do, like, a head count or something? I mean, shouldn’t we be worried?”
“I’ll reach out to my sister,” Loch soothed, pulling Sloane into a tentacle-filled embrace. “She still wakes often. Maybe she’ll know who Toll was hanging out with.”
“Toll?” Milo put the plates away.
“Tollmathan,” Sloane replied. “God of music, poetry, and plagues. Aka Bad Robert?”
“Right! Sorry!” Milo grinned sheepishly. “Still trying to learn them all.”
“The most important one to remember is Azaethoth the Lesser,” Loch said. “Me.”
“How soon can you talk to your sister?” Sloane asked, trying to get the conversation back on track.
Loch closed his eyes and clicked his tongue. “Done! Mm, I hate to wake her up so early, but I suppose we do need to start discussing wedding plans, after all.”
“Wedding plans? What?” Milo squeaked, grinning at them and clapping. “You mean, wait, did you, you two…?”
“Loch asked me to marry him last night at Lochlain and Robert’s wedding,” Sloane confirmed. “We didn’t want to announce it then and steal any of their thunder—”
“I wanted to,” Loch said with a soft huff. “Sloane wouldn’t let me.”
“Ahhh! Congrats!” Milo gushed. “That’s so awesome!”
“Don’t say anything yet! We want to make an official announcement later!” Sloane pleaded. “And maybe keep this new god business hush-hush. I don’t want anyone freaking out if it turns out to be nothing.”
“Okay! Can do!” Milo looked around at the huge mess he’d made. “Little help, my super awesome starlit friend? Lynnette might come home for lunch, and well….”
“I got you.” Sloane wiggled away from Loch’s many arms so he could clap his hands together. All the broken glass was immediately made whole again and the smoke cleared, all evidence of the disaster magically gone.
“Phew!” Milo sighed in relief. “You’re a lifesaver!”
“You guys doing okay?” Sloane asked sympathetically.
“Yeah. She’s been super moody lately and I think she wants to kill me? But then she’s super happy and doesn’t want to kill me.”
“You should mate with her more often,” Loch advised. “Mating is a wonderful way to declare your love, and it solves almost every problem—”
“No, it does not,” Sloane scolded. “You should try talking to her first. Don’t listen to him, Milo.”
“Hmmmph,” Loch fussed. “Right, don’t listen to the all-powerful immortal being who has lived for thousands of years and gives really great advice.”
“Your advice is terrible.”
“No, it’s not.”
“When that little girl at the wedding was being picked on, you told her to summon a swarm of bees.”
“Do unto others as they’ve done to you.”
“Thanks, guys,” Milo said with a chuckle, “but I think we’re gonna be okay. Moving in together can be way stressful, you know?”
“Let me know if we can help. I’ll call you later if we hear anything,” Sloane said to Milo with a warm smile. He gave his friend a big hug. “Gotta run! Gonna go see your buddy Jay!”
“Oh good, so he called you?”
“Yeah, he called me yesterday at the wedding. He’s my new client.”
“I told him to set something up with you. I knew you’d try to help him. Everybody else kinda thinks he’s going crazy.”
“Said you guys worked together down at the department, right?”
“Yeah, he’s over in IT, and his office is down the hall from the forensics lab. They put him where the old janitor’s closet used to be.” Milo grimaced. “Hope you can help him out! He’s a nice dude!”
“Thanks for the referral, by the way! We’ll talk soon!”
“Take care, mortal child,” Loch said, waving a tentacle as he followed Sloane back out to the car. “Mmm, my sister is on her way. It may take her some time to find a willing vessel.”
“You guys can just… talk to each other? Just like that?”
“Mm-hm. As long as she’s not dreaming too deeply, my sister always hears me.”
“Well, hopefully she can help us.” Sloane started driving them toward his office. “It makes me nervous as hell thinking that Bad Robert wasn’t working alone.”
“I can think of many others that it could have been,” Loch said with a shrug. “Top of the list is Gronoch. He would have been next in line to rule after Tollmathan. Perhaps it was him? Although, he’s a very heavy sleeper….”
“It wouldn’t have been your sister, right?” Sloane hated to ask. “Galgareth?”
“No,” Loch said with a firm shake of his head. “She wouldn’t do anything to hurt mortals or endanger this world. That much I’m sure of.”
“All right,” Sloane said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He frowned when his phone rang again.
It was Robert Edwards, the good one.
“Hey!” Sloane answered cheerfully. “Thought you guys were leaving for your honeymoon?”
“Almost!” Robert laughed, sounding a little nervous. “Look, uhm, could I speak to Azaethoth? Or maybe just put me on speaker? It’s sort of, uhm, personal, but….”
“Oh sure! One second!” Sloane passed the phone to Loch. “Put it on speaker.”
“Azaethoth the Lesser here,” Loch announced. “God of Tricksters, Thieves, and Divine Retribution.”
“Hello, Azaethoth!” Robert gushed, sounding even more nervous now. “I know this is very last minute, but we’re getting ready to leave for the airport, and I’m terrified of flying.” He took a deep breath. “Would you be willing to give me and Lochlain a blessing of protection for our trip?”
Sloane glanced at the time worriedly. They were so going to be late, but he nodded at Loch with a strained smile.
“Of course, my dear child,” Loch said happily. “We’ll be right over.”
“You can just meet us at the hotel!” Robert exclaimed. “Wynne Hotel, right downtown! Thank you so much!”
Sloane groaned as he took his phone back, making a quick right turn to get them redirected to the hotel. “I don’t normally ask you to use your godly powers, but if you could make every light green? That would be great.”
“I am yours to command, my sweet Starkiller,” Loch declared, always eager to show off his abilities.
They whizzed through the busy streets, and Sloane pulled up to the front of the hotel in mere minutes. He spotted Robert and Lochlain waiting for them by the door, and he put the car in park before waving them over.
Robert was a handsome young blond, and Lochlain was the mirror image of Loch. They were absolutely identical, right down to their gorgeous smiles, but the similarities ended with their physical appearance.
While Lochlain reminded Sloane of a fluffy kitten playing with a bit of string, Loch was a full-grown tiger on the prowl and definitely never up to any good.
The newlywed couple hurried over to the passenger side, and they both bowed their heads respectfully in greeting.
Loch rolled down the window with a very pleased smile. “Hello, my faithful ones.”
“Hi!” Robert waved, kneeling down beside the car and trying to appear inconspicuous. “I hate to rush, but we need to leave soon—”
Loch reached out his hand, one of his tentacles slithering out from his sleeve and poking Robert in the middle of his forehead. “Great Azaethoth will be with you on your journey. His whispers will guide you and his starlight will guard you.”
Eyes fluttering from the rush of divine contact, Robert sighed in relief. “Thank you… thank you so much.”
Loch smirked at his twin, asking, “And what about you, my most devoted follower? Would you like a blessing?”
“I already have all the blessings I need.” Lochlain smiled adoringly at his groom. He grinned as he added, “Although I did hear about another shiny exhibit coming to town….”
“Ohhh, do tell,” Loch pressed eagerly.
Lochlain had become the trickster god’s most beloved follower by being a bit of a trickster himself. Lochlain was a very talented thief and had earned Loch’s respect with his profitable and clever heists.
The pair were capable of great mischief when they were together, and Sloane was quick to protest, “No felonies until after the honeymoon is over, and we really have to go!”
“We do too!” Robert grabbed Lochlain’s hand, laughing at how he and Loch both pouted. “You can play with your patron god when we come home!”
“Take care, guys!” Sloane hurriedly drove away, tires squealing. He hadn’t meant to take off like that, but they were dangerously close to being late to meet with their new client.
When his phone rang again, he wanted to throw it.
“What now?”
Loch picked it up to investigate, saying, “Ah, it’s Fred!”
“Don’t answer—”
“Hello, Fred!” Loch said cheerfully. “How are you doing, dear child? Any new bits or pieces rotting off?”
Fred Wilder was Lochlain’s best friend, a Sage, and a ghoul. His body had been destroyed by a fire and through forbidden sorcery, Lynnette created him a new one. Ghoul bodies were essentially husks, shells that would hold a resurrected soul.
Loch’s body was technically a ghoul since it was a copy of Lochlain’s, but he could maintain its integrity through his divine essence. Ghouls like Fred, on the other hand, required special magic to keep their bodies from rotting.
“Nah.” Fred’s gruff voice rumbled through the phone. “All of that is fine, but I appreciate it.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Loch said with a warm smile. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
“There is something,” Fred said, pausing uncomfortably. “Things have been going really well with my ghoul doctor friend, but I need to talk to you about somethin’ personal.”
“Ah, your penis,” Loch said without missing a beat. “You’re worried about copulation. Sloane and I are on our way to an appointment, but afterwards—”
“Not exactly,” Fred grunted.
“—I will happily examine your penis.”
Fred grumbled and hung up.
Sloane scrubbed a hand over his face. “Smooth. Very smooth.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Sloane laughed, still blushing from secondhand embarrassment.
“Mortals are so uptight,” Loch snorted, crossing his arms as he pouted.
Sloane parked outside his office, quickly unbuckling his seat belt. “Okay, come on. We’re finally here.”
Loch reached over to slide his hand up Sloane’s thigh. “Mmm, you’re so tense, my sweet Starkiller…. You need to relax.”
Trying to ignore how his cock stirred at Loch’s touch, Sloane argued, “I’m tense because we’re gonna be late. We literally have four minutes—”
“I can make you come in two,” Loch promised, pushing closer.
“Loch,” Sloane protested, but his voice didn’t sound so strong. Loch already had his pants unbuttoned, one of his larger tentacles snaking its way down into his underwear and making him squirm. “Shit, shit, shit…. You’d better be quick.”
Beyond the Surface by Colette Davison
The moment he wrapped his arms around the land-dweller’s chest and shoulders, he felt complete. For a heartbeat he was too stunned to do anything. Then he remembered that the man was dying. He shot upwards, breaking free of the surface before he could talk himself out of it. In his arms lay the land-dweller with heaving chest, and he made a weird, sucking sound. Then he was still, his head lolling against Raen’s shoulder. His damp hair dangled over Raen’s back. The shorter hair on the man’s chin and jaw tickled Raen’s chest. In this fragile state, he looked heartbreakingly beautiful. But he was alive. Raen knew he was alive.
Knowing he had saved the land-dweller, Raen gaped at the vastness of the darkening sky. It seemed to go on forever, getting darker and darker the further away from him it stretched. The moon was a clear, unwavering globe, shining brightly upon him. Pinpricks of light were scattered across the darkness. Under the moon, the world above seemed to be nothing but dark blues and black, and he longed to know what visual feast would greet him if he were to break the surface when light filled the above. Most of all he wondered why. Why had his people been forbidden from seeing such beauty?
He could have marvelled at the sight forever, but the weight of the land-dweller in his arms spurred him into action. He could feel the unconscious man shivering against him. Though he wasn’t quite sure what to do, he guessed the man needed to be out of the water; he was supposed to be on land, after all. He glanced at the boat, but between the high sides and the man’s size and build, it would be impossible for him to get him inside it on his own. He looked to the dark blob of land on the horizon. Terror tugged at him, but he knew he had to get the man there. He turned onto his back, hugging the man to his chest to keep his face out of the water, and began to swim.
It was harder than he’d expected. He was swimming against the tide, and the strange, thin wrappings the man wore gave the ocean purchase to try to pull them down. The man’s unfamiliar appendages didn’t help either. Instead of a long, lean tail, he had two limbs that Raen could have mistaken for arms, except they didn’t have hands on the end. They dragged through the water, making swimming that much harder. Raen didn’t give up. He had to get the man to land, and that was all that mattered. If he failed to save the man now, whatever punishment he would face when he returned home would be for nothing.
By the time they reached land, Raen was exhausted. With difficulty, he managed to haul the man onto the shore. He found it odd that there was sand here too, but at least it was familiar. Partly, anyway. It looked silvery blue beneath the moonlight and was warm to the touch. There was no one else in sight, though he did see a handful of tiny crabs, scuttling across the sand. Out of the water, everything was hot, and he quickly began to feel… he shook his head, unable to find one word that described the damp closeness that clung to him. There was a slight coolness that whispered against his skin, but it was another thing he couldn’t name.
Raen stared down at the man, marvelling at how handsome he was, even though the moonlight robbed his skin and hair of natural colour, replacing them with a variety of blue-tinged greys. Raen was bemused as to why—or even how—the man had so much hair covering his body; not just his face and chest, but his arms, underarms, and bottom arms. Whatever they were really called.
He pressed his ear to the man’s chest, feeling the tickle of the soft damp hairs, which covered the man’s skin. There it was, the rhythmic, lazy thud-thud of a heartbeat, just the same as the one he felt in his own chest. He smiled at the comforting sound, astounded by how similar and how different they were to one another. Cautiously, he ran his fingertips over the man’s cheek and jaw. The connection he felt to the stranger was all-consuming and overwhelming. He needed to deny what it meant because this man—this land-dweller—couldn’t possibly be his mate.
Demon's Life by Shari Sakurai
With only his thoughts for company, Taku was aware of the dangerous fragility of his situation. Kurai had already tried to break him once, and the half-truths that the demon had confronted him with continued to go round and round in his mind. It was these that had caused Taku to lower his guard and become trapped. He would not make this mistake again.
Thane was never far from his thoughts and Taku wondered what he was doing. Was he still in Norfield or had he left? A part of him hoped that Thane had put as much distance between himself and Kurai as he could. For months he had felt it. Kurai’s abhorrence directed at all of their kind. It would kill them all now that it had the chance. Yet despite this, Taku couldn’t help clinging to the faintest hope that Thane could help him.
Taku got up from his bed and made his way to the window. Placing a hand on the glass, Taku felt the vibrations from the rain. He closed his eyes, allowing his forehead to press against the pane. He was reluctant to acknowledge just how frightened he was. That there might not be a way out of this. Even the thought of remaining here, trapped for eternity, was terrifying, and Taku crushed this before it could manifest. He had to remain strong. It was his only defence now. To stay strong and wait for an opportunity.
Then he felt it. A change in the atmosphere. The darkness surrounding him grew oppressive. Feeling it closing in, Taku steeled his composure as he turned back around.
Thane stood in the doorway. He was learning against the frame with his arms folded across his chest. He smirked as their eyes met. Taku was not naïve enough to think that it was actually his lover before him. The smugness in the gaze gave the demon away, even were it not for its ochre eyes.
“Don’t use that form!” Taku practically growled as he took a step away from the window. He wasn’t foolish enough to try and rush Kurai. The demon had proved itself stronger and any kind of reaction like that would result in it leaving. Taku did not want that. Its presence was proof that despite everything Kurai could not simply abandon him here. Even buried deep in the demon’s subconscious, Taku still concerned it. This was a potential weakness that he could exploit if he was smart enough. And Taku was smart enough. Kurai may be stronger, but the demon had gravely underestimated him.
“Does it really bother you that much?” Kurai queried as it stepped fully into the room. The door remained open, the demon standing between Taku and the darkness beyond.
“No,” Taku denied. “It’s irritating that you think that you can break me so easily. I know you’re not him.”
“Is it the eyes?” the demon mocked as it took a step closer. Its amber gaze shimmered momentarily before slowly fading into brilliant emerald green. Taku winced despite himself.
“You can cast that illusion for as long as you like, but you will never fool me,” Taku warned angrily.
It shrugged its shoulders at this, however its form remained the same.
“Do you like your prison?”
“It’s far from imaginative.”
“Such arrogance. Should I will it I could crush your consciousness into oblivion with a mere thought.”
“Then do it,” Taku challenged. It couldn’t. They both knew the truth. One body and two minds. It was merely a battle of wills. Kurai might think that it had the upper hand, but it was Taku who would finally prevail. He had beaten it once, and that was why Kurai was here. Despite its strength, Kurai still feared him.
Frank W Butterfield
Frank W. Butterfield is the Amazon best-selling author of 89 (and counting) self-published novels, novellas, and short stories. Born and raised in Lubbock, Texas, he has traveled all over the US and Canada and now makes his home in Daytona Beach, Florida. His first attempt at writing at the age of nine with a ball-point pen and a notepad was a failure. Forty years later, he tried again and hasn't stopped since.
Kevin lives with his husband, Warren, in their humble apartment (affectionately named Sabrina), in Australia’s own ‘Emerald City,’ Sydney.
His tall tales explore unrequited love in the theatre district of the Afterlife, romance between a dreamer and a realist, and a dystopian city addicted to social media.
His first novel, Drama Queens with Love Scenes, spawned a secondary character named Guy. Many readers argue that Guy, the insecure gay angel, is the star of the Actors and Angels book series. His popularity surprised the author. The third in this series, Drama Queens and Devilish Schemes, scored a Rainbow Award (judged by fans of queer fiction) for Best Gay Alternative Universe/Reality novel.
His novel, The Midnight Man, scored first place in the LGBT category of the Paranormal Romance Guild's Reviewer's Choice Awards, as well as winning the Fantasy category of the 2021 Gay Scribe Awards.
So, with his fictional guardian angel guiding him, Kevin hopes to bring more whimsical tales of love, life and friendship to his readers.
K.L. “Kat” Hiers is an embalmer, restorative artist, and queer writer. Licensed in both funeral directing and funeral service, she’s been working in the death industry for nearly a decade. Her first love was always telling stories, and she has been writing for over twenty years, penning her very first book at just eight years old. Publishers generally do not accept manuscripts in Hello Kitty notebooks, however, but she never gave up.
Following the success of her first novel, Cold Hard Cash, she now enjoys writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. She loves attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of her favorite characters. She lives in Zebulon, NC, with her husband and their children, some of whom have paws and a few that only pretend to because they think it’s cute.
Following the success of her first novel, Cold Hard Cash, she now enjoys writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. She loves attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of her favorite characters. She lives in Zebulon, NC, with her husband and their children, some of whom have paws and a few that only pretend to because they think it’s cute.
Colette's personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. Several years later, she’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.
Ever since she could hold a pen, Colette has been writing stories. Always an avid reader and lover of the arts, Colette graduated in Theatre Studies from Lancaster University in 1999, and in English Literature from the Open University in 2010. After studying for a P.G.C.E. in secondary education, and subsequently teaching english and drama for six years, Colette chose to become a stay at home mum and to focus on her writing.
Colette's first M/M romance, Why I Left You, was published in November 2017. Since then she has continued to write books that are sweet, sexy, and heartwarming.
Shari Sakurai is a British author of paranormal, horror, science fiction and fantasy novels that almost always feature a LGBTQ protagonist and/or antagonist. She has always loved to write and it is her escape from the sometimes stressful modern life!
Aside from writing, Shari enjoys reading, watching movies, listening to (loud!) music, going to rock concerts and learning more about other societies and cultures. Japanese culture is of particular interest to her and she often incorporates Japanese themes and influences into her work.
Shari loves a challenge and has taken part and won the National Novel Writing Month challenge eleven times!
Frank W Butterfield
Kevin Klehr
iTUNES / GOOGLE PLAY / SMASHWORDS
B&N / FB FRIEND / YOUTUBE / KOBO
NINESTAR PRESS / INSTAGRAM
BOOKBUB / AMAZON / GOODREADS
B&N / FB FRIEND / YOUTUBE / KOBO
NINESTAR PRESS / INSTAGRAM
BOOKBUB / AMAZON / GOODREADS
KL Hiers
EMAIL: sharisakurai@gmail.com
St. David's Day 1848 by Frank W Butterfield
The Midnight Man by Kevin Klehr
iTUNES / SMASHWORDS / WEBSITE
Head Over Tentacles by KL Hiers
B&N / KOBO / DREAMSPINNER
Beyond the Surface by Colette Davison
Demon's Life by Shari Sakurai
Thank you so much for including Demon’s Life!
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