Category: Action/Thriller Type: Fiction
Pages: 71
Copyright: July 04, 2013
Laurent, a faerie sorcerer has been summoned from hell and has twenty-four hours to discover who used him as an unwilling murderer and to avoid a return to damnation.
Laurent, a faerie sorcerer, lived for centuries. When it ended, instead of drifting into oblivion he awoke in Hell. After countless years of indescribable torment, a half-faerie half-human conjurer summons him to 21st century New Orleans. Laurent now has twenty-four hours to discover who used him as an unwilling murderer and to avoid a return to damnation. The only person on his side is the summoner's sister, a half faerie police detective, investigating the murder he committed.
Excerpt
The large chunk of cold iron rammed into my chest. It isn’t a faerie’s only weakness, but it is certainly our greatest. The sword’s cross guard was the only thing that stopped it from passing through me entirely. Pain was the last thing I felt on Earth. I’d say it hurt like Hell, but as the next few minutes—or perhaps hours, days or even centuries— proved there is very little truth to that hyperbole. Nothing could have prepared me for the sheer agony I endured next.
I lack the words to describe what it feels like to have your soul pierced with a million needles. You see methods in ancient literature involving hot coals, impalement through various orifices, being boiled in a variety of fluids. Not even close. Why ... how can a soul even FEEL pain? One would think a person would become acclimated to pain over time, but my attendant demon was nothing if not experienced in ratcheting it up or changing the kind of pain it inflicted.
Some people would take this experience and use it as fuel to be a better person. Not me. I plan on spending the next few millennium hunting down the fucker who created Hell. Then we’ll see how he likes being on the receiving end.
My time in Hell did come to an end, or this story would not have been written. The transition from a torturer's rack to summoner's circle was a sensation unique to my experience. The immediate lack of pain was refreshing. The sudden change was almost painful in itself. My essence, call it a soul, was stretched thin. It was like watching a candy maker pulling taffy. Just as I thought my living energy would snap from the strain, if such a thing is possible, I would feel my being begin to condense, to coalesce. At first I thought it was a trick. The demon wanted to give me the illusion of freedom, only to snatch it back. As it turned out, I was wrong.
The first thing I heard upon returning to the mortal world was the voice of someone named John Fogerty. The singer’s wail filled the apartment from wooden boxes. The first thing I smelled was the pungent, familiar odor of burning marijuana. The idiot who summoned me had done me a favor, but I would have preferred making my entrance with fragrant incense accompanied by Vivaldi. I felt an unusual chill against my bare skin. The muted green, threadbare carpet was scratchy underneath my feet. An innate sense of time told me it was only a few seconds past midnight on the birth of the year 2014. The last time I visited Earth was at least a hundred and fifty years earlier, and had ended rather badly. Had I been in a cell for over a century? The passage of time in the nether regions was fluid. I had anticipated spending a lot more time with my attendant demons, say at least a few millennium, but the freedom was welcome.
My summoner looked as surprised as I felt. His eyes opened wide in shock. The gold flecked, brown irises shone wet with fear. His mouth opened with a question that would remain unasked. I had time to notice how perfect his teeth were and the cupid bow his lips would make. When I crushed his larynx with the side of my hand, his look of surprise dimmed rapidly and my own satisfaction increased. Venting my anger at my prison guards on this fleshy shell whetted my appetite for vengeance, rather than abating it.
I stepped over the now cooling corpse and out of the crude summoning circle his body sprawled across. The triangle and circle were inscribed on the floor in blood and told me almost everything I needed to know about the man at my feet. He was a rank amateur with more power than brains. He had to have a book or a scroll to have summoned me from the depths of Hell. I looked around for the tome, thinking it would help me in binding my essence here or in returning to my true home.
Action-packed adventure that will keep you turning the pages.
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