Author: Erin Klitzke

This is the conclusion I’ve come to as a result of (re?)starting the process of working on fixing books 3-7 of the Awakenings series. Of course, it’s a serial, the story predates the serial, and it’s all very complicated and crazy and fun.

It’s a story that I wanted to tell but it was a story that I dove into with barely half a plan which sometimes works out great and sometimes doesn’t. Sometimes writing to a deadline, while it forces you to continue to stretch creative muscles, doesn’t do you many favors.

There’s a lot that needs fixing, needs updating, needs smoothing out—this is true of books 3-7, but also specifically true of some plot and character arcs that turned out to be, in the end, not what they were originally intended to be (I’m looking at you, Matt and Hecate, who took the prize for “biggest surprise” so far—which is not to say other characters didn’t also do this to me because more than a few did). This means I have a lot of material to play with, but there’s also a lot of material that needs tightening up.

Some things will need to be pulled out, new things will be added in. In reviewing the content that ended up being book 3 content (since book 2 and book 3 ended up being mixed around a little bit from how they were originally posted—just to make some things flow better and properly link things together), there’s almost no content with the group that Aoife’s with, which is something that will need to change so their plot arc can be properly tied up in subsequent books. I can’t cut them entirely because a) it wouldn’t make sense to do it given the role some of the characters play later and b) at least one particularly important instance where we see exactly how wild talents and magic can be in the broken world.

In many ways, the books of the Founders Cycle (which comprises the first seven books of the series), is about the survivors learning exactly what they can do—the power they possess—and then stomping down hard on the war that they didn’t start but will play a role in finishing. It’s a fun, interesting arc that takes them through the first few years after the end of everything they knew and one that sets up the Ambrose Cycle that follows—but more on that story sometime to come.

Either way, I’ve got my work cut out for me with all of this.

Awakenings: Book One and War Drums are available where books are sold.

“I’m sorry.”

I stiffened at the sound of his voice, fingers curling a little tighter around the book in my hand. There were times when I cursed his knack for finding me and this was one of those times.

“I really don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Kira—”

“No, seriously.” I shoved the book back onto the shelf. “You only stood me up and my cousin either thinks you’re a jerk of epic proportions or that you’re some kind of figment of his way too lonely cousin’s imagination. No big deal. I just need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“You don’t get to tell me—” I spun toward him and froze, heart stutter-stepping. “Oh my god. What happened to your face?”

Teague looked away, as if that would hide the black eye and the split lip that I’d already spotted. I reached for him, fingers trembling as they brushed against his lip just shy of the cut. His shoulders slumped and he shook his head slightly.

“It’s why I wasn’t there. I’m sorry, Kira, I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Never mind that. What happened to your face, Teague?” His face was a mess of bruises to match the shiner and the lip. I was already starting to imagine the bruises I was likely to find beneath his shirt. The anger I’d been nursing had dulled as I realized that he’d been through some kind of hell and that had kept him from making it to dinner.

I should have worried. Instead I wasted time being angry. Dammit. His hand covered mine, our fingers tangling as he drew our hands away from his face.

“Not here,” he murmured. “Someone picked a fight with me. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Until we get you home, anyway,” I said.

“It’s not—”

“Serious? It looks serious enough.” I reached up to touch his swollen cheek and he recoiled, hissing in pain. “Have you been to the ER?”

“I’m not going to the ER.”

“Teague—”

“I’m not going to the ER.” He was using his stubborn tone, the one that told me he wasn’t going to listen no matter how hard I pressed—not to me, not about this. All I could do was sigh and shake my head.

“Was Phelan there?” I asked.

Teague shook his head. “No. He doesn’t know anything about this and neither of us are going to tell him, either.”

I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it and sighed. “What’s there to tell? I don’t know anything.”

“I’ll tell you everything,” he whispered a second before his lips brushed mine. “Just not here.”

“Then I’m taking you home,” I said, hands stroking his face and hair gently. “My place if you’re that worried about Phelan finding out what happened. It’s closer anyway.”

He looked like he wanted to protest but he just closed his eyes instead and nodded slightly. “All right. Home it is.”

I took him by the hand and abandoned the stacks for the gray light of a late autumn afternoon. There was a chill in the air that hadn’t been there when I’d left my apartment that morning, but we’d be all right between the library, the bus, and my apartment.

“Don’t you have—”

“Professor Daniels will understand if I’m not there.”

“Kira.”

I stopped, twisting toward him on the sidewalk. “Teague…let me do this. I know how far I can push.”

“You’ve only known me for a couple months,” he said, his voice choked. “I don’t want you to destroy your life.”

“I’ve known you my whole life,” I whispered. “I know you’re worth it. Come on.”

He shuddered, but followed me. I tried to turn away fast enough so I wouldn’t see the pain in his eyes, but I failed. It was there, huge and real and utterly undeniable.

“I never meant for any of this,” he said as we hurried toward the bus stop. “I never knew this would happen.”

“That I would dream of a past life almost every night for as long as I could remember? No, of course you wouldn’t want that. No one would want that for someone they loved.” I stopped, twisting back toward him. He ran smack into me like we had on the day we’d met. “I know that you love me, Teague, and that’s enough for now. You don’t have to give me everything—you don’t have to tell me all of your secrets. I know that you have them because she knew that you had them. I know keeping them isn’t personal. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he said, fingers squeezing mine. “I put her through too much and I had to abandon her when she still needed me. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Are you planning on doing that to me?”

“No, but I didn’t plan on doing it to her, either.”

“Things are different,” I told him. “We have choices—I have to assume we’ve got choices, more choices than you had then. We’ll be okay.”

He looked down, huddling in his lightweight jacket. I exhaled a quiet sigh, holding his hand a little tighter.

We got on the bus, leaning against each other in a seat near the exit doors. His eyes fell closed and he breathed shallowly, as if his ribs hurt. I wove my fingers through his, squeezing.

What did you get into, Teague? Do I even want to know?

He’d promised to tell me, though.

“I actually wanted to meet him,” he said quietly. “I was kind of looking forward to it. I was terrified of it, but I was looking forward to it.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m not that angry.”

“Liar.”

I cracked a smile and kissed his cheek gently, the one that wasn’t swollen or bruised. He sighed, quiet as the bus hummed along the streets of the city, making its way toward the neighborhood where I lived. He wasn’t asleep—I could tell that much—but he was on the edge of it. I’d be lucky if he stayed awake long enough to tell me what had actually happened to him when he was supposed to be meeting me.

So I wouldn’t get to know right away. I’d just have to be patient.

Story of my life.

The bus finally stopped near my apartment and we got off, Teague’s steps slow and careful as I tucked myself under his arm to support him. He hissed softly as he settled his arm across my shoulders.

“Bloody ribs,” he growled under his breath. I suppressed the urge to sigh and shake my head at him.

It was bad this time. How do I know it’s not going to be worse next time?

What if he didn’t make it home next time?

I didn’t want to think about it—not at all.

“Can you make it as far as my apartment?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what we’d do if he said no, but I’d figure something out.

He nodded, though, solving that problem. It was only a hundred yards or so from the bus stop anyway. Teague leaned on me, shivering slightly in the chill of the autumn afternoon.

“Colder out here than I thought it would be,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” I agreed softly. I opened the wooden gate that separated the small front yard of my building from the sidewalk and headed up to the porch, digging around in my pocket for my keys. “It’s all right. There are plenty of blankets upstairs. We just have to make it that far.”

He snorted softly, straightening as I unlocked the front door and drew him into the vestibule.

“Good thing we didn’t try for yours,” I said as I guided him to the stairs.

“At least my building has an elevator.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s also ten minutes further away and you’re fading a lot faster than that.”

He made a quiet sound and leaned on me as we headed up the two flights to my third floor apartment, my arm around his waist and his across my shoulders.

“You know that I shouldn’t forgive you, right?”

“I’m well aware of that,” he said quietly. “I’d be a little shocked if you did.”

I sighed and unlocked my front door. “I love you,” I said. “Staying angry at you wouldn’t be good for either one of us. The couch or my bed?”

“The bed would be more comfortable, but I don’t think I’m going to make it farther than your couch.”

I settled him on my couch with a blanket and helped him take off his shoes.  Teague’s eyes slid closed and he tilted his head back with a soft groan.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.  As if the words would erase what had happened, as if I was still angry.

Maybe I was.  Maybe it didn’t matter.  I reached down and smoothed his hair back from his face.  He opened his eyes and stared at me.

“Forgive me?”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.  I swallowed hard.  It wasn’t worth being angry.  “I’m going to put some hot water on,” I said quietly.  “Do you want anything?”

“Whatever you’re making,” he said, closing his eyes again.  “Don’t call Phelan.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said as I walked into my kitchen.  “You asked me not to.”

“I know.” He sighed. “But you’re worried, and when I start making you worried like this, you tend to call him whether I want you to or not.”

I should have been offended. I should have yelled at him, completely lost my temper and told him to mind his own business and I’d worry as I wanted to and I’d call his cousin if I damn well wanted to. I didn’t. He was right—I did tend to call Phelan in situations like this. That tended to feel like the right thing to do.

Today, it didn’t.

“Just rest,” I told him. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He nodded, sinking deeper into my couch’s cushions as he eased onto his side, one arm hugged protectively against his ribcage. I stared at him for a long moment before I turned and slipped into the kitchen, biting my lip and feeling like my heart had become a ball of lead in my chest.

I slumped against the counter, a sob bubbling up, one I kept trapped behind my teeth. I couldn’t. I couldn’t break down, not now. He needed me—and I needed him, beyond logic and beyond caring.

But I couldn’t call Phelan, not this time, and he wouldn’t go to a hospital. This was something that he and I would have to handle alone.

I put some water on to boil. I made some tea. I threw towels and blankets in the dryer to get good and hot and went hunting for my heating pad in the big junk drawer in the kitchen. Peeking out into my living room, I could see that he was dozing, maybe sleeping. My heart ached as I looked at him.

I’m sorry, Teague. I wish I wasn’t angry.

God, did I love him.

The dryer beeped and I pulled the blankets and towels out. Teague stirred on my couch, then quieted again as I headed into the living room with the blankets and my heating pad. I sat down on my coffee table, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

He shuddered and opened his eyes as I peeled his shirt up, exposing his black-and-blue torso. “What are you doing?” he asked, words slurring slightly.

“Shh,” I hushed gently as I spread the heating pad over his side, dialing the heat up as high as I dared. He moaned quietly, sagging into the cushions, and let me roll his shirt back down again.

“How did you know?” he asked as I covered him with the blankets I’d taken out of the dryer.

“When I’m sore, all I want is to be warm. You’re way more than sore.” I kissed his cheek. His hand found mine, fingers tangling.

“There were too many of them,” he whispered. “I knew that, but they caught me off-guard, got me surrounded. They started in on me and I tried to fight back. I did. But I knew there were too many. I didn’t have a prayer. I was on the ground and I—I thought of you, Kira. I thought about you waiting for me, maybe worried, maybe getting mad. I couldn’t leave you, couldn’t abandon you like that. I just snapped. The next thing I remember was being in the shower at home and the water was running cold over me.”

I stared at him, my throat so tight I couldn’t speak. I bit my lip and swallowed hard, moving from my perch on the coffee table to beside him on the couch, his belly pressed against my lower back. His arm curled around me and he shivered.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.” I stared at him, eyes stinging with tears I didn’t want to let lose. If I started to cry, he’d want to comfort me, and he didn’t need to be doing that right now. I stretched out beside him on the couch, our foreheads touching as he pressed himself back against the cushions, his arms around me and drawing me closer to his chest.

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” he admitted, eyes shining. “Of disappointing you. I’m so sorry, Kira. I should have been there last night.”

“Hush,” I told him softly, pressing a kiss against his lips with gentle, insistent pressure. “There will be other opportunities to subject you to my cousin and you to him.”

Teague managed to laugh, but the sound ended in a cough and a groan.  He squeezed his eyes shut, slumping against the cushions. I ran my hand down his arm lightly.

“You don’t want to go to the ER because you don’t want to have to explain,” I said. “They’d ask and you don’t want to have to make something up.”

“Or tell the truth,” he said, then sighed. “It’s always either one or the other and neither is a good choice at this point.”

I had to agree with him there. Either way, the extent of his injuries would make the emergency room personnel want to get the police involved and getting the police involved was the last thing we needed—especially considering they’d be more hinderance than help.

“I’m still worried about you,” I whispered.

“I know.” He stared at me for a few seconds, searching for something in my gaze that I hope he found. “But I’m not going anywhere, Kira. I promise.”

I nodded, throat growing tight again. I needed that promise to be one he could keep, but I was starting to doubt he had as much control over that as he thought he did. Maybe he was lying to himself, or in denial, or simply didn’t realize the magnitude of what he was facing.

Then again, did I have any idea what, exactly, he was facing—what we were facing? I didn’t, not in the ways I should.

In the end, would it really matter?

I didn’t know the answer to that question, either.

“Kira! Kira, End of the Red Line, tonight. You’ve got to come.”

“Huh?” I turned toward the sound of Marsye Abrams’ voice, trying not to drop the armload of books I’d just picked up from my office. Long weekends without papers to grade meant I could get more work done on my dissertation and I intended to take full advantage. “What’s going on?”

She rolled her eyes at me, grinning. “Concert at the End of the Red tonight, no cover, epic lead singer. You have to come.”

I tried to suppress a sigh, starting to shake my head. She grabbed me by the chin and made me nod instead.

“Don’t tell me you’re not coming.  You work too damn hard anyway and you need a break.”

“Says the second year candidate,” I said, shifting my load of books. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, Mars.”

“It’s a benefit for one of the humanities scholarship funds,” she said, crossing her arms. The stubborn set to her jaw and her intense, blue-eyed stare told me I wasn’t going to win this one. I was doomed to show up at the club tonight even if she had to drag me along like a fashion accessory—not that she needed more than her golden blonde curls and supermodel body to draw attention. The fact that she was a brilliant lit scholar was the only thing that kept her from being the single most popular object rumor in the post-grad community—she was more than smart enough to have gotten into her program without having to sleep her way there. “Twenty percent of the drink and food take goes right back into funding research grants and undergrad scholarships.”

“Sounds like you had a hand in planning this little shindig,” I said, looking around for a place to set down my books. My arms were beginning to ache something fierce and I’d been banking on making it to the bus by now to avoid the higher levels of discomfort I could feel coming on.

“Maybe a little one,” she admitted. “You’re coming, right?”

Heaving a heavy sigh, I nodded. “How could I say no, right? What time?”

“Concert starts at seven. I’ll see you there.”

“Yeah.”

She gave a giggle and a wave, turning and jogging down the sidewalk toward one of the campus buildings. I closed my eyes and exhaled quietly, shaking my head.

“I should not let myself get talked into this stuff,” I murmured, pivoting to cross the green. I’d have to hurry if I was going to make the 2:15 bus now and there was no time for sidewalks. In hindsight, I probably should have opened my eyes before I started to cross the green.

Walking into him was like walking face-first into a wall for a lot of reasons.

My eyes popped open as both he and I went crashing to the ground, books and papers scattering all around us. “Oh my god,” I blurted as I pushed myself back into a sitting position, already feeling a blush flooding my cheeks. “I am so, so sorry, I’m a total klutz.”

“No, it’s my fault,” he said, rolling to his side and propping himself on an elbow to look at me. “I should have been paying more attention myself.”

Our eyes met and both of us lay there staring at each other for the space of a few breaths—breaths I didn’t realize I was holding until my vision started to dim at the edges and I had to suck air into my lungs in a decidedly unsophisticated gasp. He seemed equally struck, but I couldn’t imagine why.

I sincerely doubted that he’d been dreaming of myface his whole life.

He moved first, rocking to his knees and giving me a rueful smile. “Well, this is awkward, isn’t it?”

I gulped and nodded, looking away and scrambling to gather my books again. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s completely awkward.”

“I’m sorry.”

His accent was strange but attractive, the sound of his voice sending skitters of nervous excitement through me. I glanced at him and smiled briefly. “It’s fine, it’s mostly me. Have we—have I met you before?”

“I’ve seen you,” he said simply, helping me stack my books before gathering his own scattered belongings—a few notebooks and a worn, leather-bound tome with no writing on the cover or spine. “You’ve probably seen me around campus. I don’t think we’ve ever actually been introduced, though.” He offered me his hand with a faint smile. “Teague Vaughan.”

I took it, finding his grip firm and his hands warm. “Kira Thomlin. Are you in one of the grad programs or something?”

“Guest lecturer, actually. ABD. I’m on loan from Trinity for a couple of semesters.”

“Oh.” He didn’t look quite old enough for that, but I wasn’t about to pry. They did things a little differently across the pond, after all. Maybe over there he was old enough to be doing what he was doing. “Which department?”

His smile turned rueful. “Liberal studies, I’m afraid, but I suppose that it fits what I’m teaching. I have a thing for mythology but history training. I’m here lecturing on the connections.”

My stomach gave a little flip and I smiled back. “Sounds awesome, actually. Absolutely fascinating.” My cheeks heated again and I glanced down at my toes, clutching my books against my chest. “I’m third year doctoral. History.”

“Oh, so you’re not one of Dr. Ford’s students.”

I laughed and shook my head. “No, but I’ve heard horror stories from his grads. He’s formidable.”

“He’s not a bad sort. He lobbied hard to get me here.”

We were both standing now, facing each other in the grass a few feet from the sidewalk. I was going to miss my bus, but I wasn’t quite sure I cared anymore. It’s not every day you meet the man of your dreams—literally.

I’d been dreaming of Teague Vaughan’s face for as long as I could remember. They’d been innocent when I was younger, and his face had been younger, too, usually matched for mine. He was bright-eyed and often happy in those dreams, and we got into the worst sorts of trouble together. He called me Raven in those dreams, but I didn’t care.  It felt right. The older I got, the more intense—the more intimate—the dreams became.

The memory of some of them was still enough to make me blush. They’d started to peak last October and November to the point I’d been having them every night, sometimes two or three a night. I’d always had a hard time talking about them, but that Thanksgiving my cousin’s girlfriend had dragged it out of me. Marin always had a knack for telling when there was something wrong.

I’d told her everything and to this day she was the only one I’d spared nothing from about those dreams. I didn’t feel that guilty about it, since if my cousin was smart, they’d be engaged before the school year was out and I’d needed the confidant I’d found in her.

“Are you all right?”

I snapped out of my daze and just stared at him. “Yeah,” I said, maybe a little too quickly. “Yeah, I’m great. Like I said, I’m…I’m such a klutz, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s just as much my fault as yours.” The smile he shot in my direction was warm, almost warm enough to set me blushing again. “Honestly, I’m glad I ran into you. I don’t really know many people other than a few faculty members and I’m not sure I like all of them or that they like me. My cousin’s always after me to meet some new people. As unconventional as ours was…I…acch. Do you want to have a drink? With me, I mean.”

Did I just hear him right? “Uhm…yeah, sure. Now?”

He laughed. “Two o’clock in the afternoon is a little early, I guess. Tonight, maybe? I heard a vague rumor about there being some kind of thing at a club off the Red Line? I’ll admit that I have no idea where it is or how I’m going to get there, but—”

“That would be amazing,” I said. “I know where the club is. It’s not actually off the Red Line, but it’s close. Hell, it’s not actually even where the Red Line ends, it’s a stop before that, but it’s—I should stop.” I manage to smile even though my face felt like it was on fire. “If you, uhm, if you take the Red Line up to Jarvis, I can meet you at the station.”

“Seven o’clock?”

“Sure.” My heart pounded against my ribs so hard I thought he must have been able to hear it, to see it vibrating my shirt. “That’d be great.”

“I’ll see you then.” His smile shot shivers through me and set my heart to racing a little faster than it had been a second before.

Then he was gone, heading away toward the library and leaving me behind on the green. I sucked in a ragged breath and watched his retreating back, watching the way his hair shone in the afternoon sunshine, the achingly familiar set of his shoulders and manner of his stride.

My heart gave one last painful squeeze before it slowed down to normal pace and I could breathe easily again.

Not every day you meet the man of your dreams. “I’ve got to be crazy,” I muttered. “Absolutely batshit insane. This doesn’t happen in real life.”

Except that it had, and it had just happened to me. It felt too good to be true. Maybe it was.

I’m just going to have to find out, I guess.

Taking another deep breath, I hugged my books against my chest and headed for the bus. Whatever this surprise date with my dream guy held, I was going to be ready for it, one way or another.

~

This is insane. I closed my eyes shut as the train pulled away from the station at Loyola. Two more stops. I took a deep breath and counted to ten, hoping my heart would stop hammering like a jackhammer against my breast sometime before Jarvis.

He’s just a guy—probably a nice guy, but just a guy. Get a grip, Kira. Get a goddamned grip and take a breath.

I tried to take my own advice, but it was hard.

He’s a professor—or a lecturer, at the least. It’ll probably be boring as hell. If it’s not boring as hell, it’ll be awkward as hell.

Settle down. You’re going to try to have a good time. Marsye’s right, you don’t get out enough. If you’re not careful, you’re going to turn into some kind of hermit. I picked at the hem of my sequined tank and hoped that the mesh-weave cardigan I’d thrown over it didn’t make me look too dowdy.

Even if it does, it’s too late to go home and change now. I glanced at my phone. Six fifty-four.

“Just don’t embarrass yourself and you’ll be fine,” I whispered to myself. An old lady sitting across from me gave me a funny look. I gave her an abashed smile.

She got off at Morse—maybe to escape the crazy girl in jeans and green sequins sitting across from her. I stared out the windows as the train clacked along the rails on tis trek further north for another moment before I got up myself. Jarvis was next and that was my stop.

Teague stood on the platform as I stepped off the train, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a pair of khaki pants, hair tousled in the wind from passing trains. He looked as nervous as I felt until his eyes met mine.

Then he smiled and started toward me as I moved away from the edge of the platform. I smiled back.

“I’m early,” he said, sounding sheepish and apologetic. “I was worried about getting lost and being late. I haven’t been in the city very long.”

“That’s understandable,” I said. He took my hand gently, freeing it from the death grip I had around the strap of my bag.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

“Do you want the truth?” I regretted the words as soon as they’d left my mouth, but I managed to stop myself from cringing.

Way to go, ace.

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“A little,” I said. “A lot. I don’t do this. I’m usually too busy grading exams or working on my own stuff.”

“Then we’re even. I think I need a few drinks before I actually settle down.” He squeezed my hand. His fingers were warm and calloused. I wondered what he did on the weekends to make that happen, because it sure as hell wouldn’t have happened lecturing on the connections between history and myth. “Where’s this club I’ve been hearing rumbles about?”

“It’s this way.” I held his hand as I led him down the steps from the platform and to street level. We turned up the sidewalk and headed down a little ways. There was a crowd outside of the Side Project—probably a show at the tiny storefront theatre. I kept going, sandals slapping against the bricks and pavement. Teague gamely kept up with me even as I twisted aside to avoid a biker speeding along the sidewalk, then swerved to avoid a woman and her husband with a stroller.

“Any other night and it would not be this crowded,” I muttered.

“It’s all right. This is still a lot quieter than downtown.”

He was certainly right about that.

There was a young Latino man I recognized stamping hands outside End of the Red—I was pretty sure he was one of the grads in social studies, but I wasn’t quite sure. He smiled at me as Teague and I approached and gave us a nod. “Come to see the show?”

“And have a drink,” I said, holding hand out for him to stamp. The blacklight ink left faint green and purple traces on the back of my hand. Teague offered his hand—the one not still holding mine—for his own stamp.

“Kiki’s tending bar and she makes a wicked cosmo.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, then headed into the club.

“Somehow, you didn’t strike me as the martini type,” Teague said as we headed down the short corridor and showed the bouncer our stamps.

“I’m not,” I told him. The throb of dance music shivered my bones—I knew the show that Marsye had promised hadn’t started yet. The band was probably still preparing for the show and the dance music was a filler to keep the early crowd occupied while they waited.

“Rum and coke?”

I smiled faintly. “Vodka and 7-Up.”

“Well, I was close.” He grinned and tugged me toward the bar against the far wall. I grinned and trailed along behind him, his sudden enthusiasm infectious.

“Almost,” I told him as we found enough space for the two of us at one end. The place was already almost standing room only and I started to wonder exactly how well-advertised the fundraiser had actually been. “This is crazy. I’ve never seen this place so busy.”

“Do you come here often?”

I laughed at his question and shook my head. “No! No, this really, really not my typical scene.”

Teague grinned. “I can empathize. I’m more of a mead and bonfire guy myself.”

I almost laughed out loud again. “Mead and bonfire, huh?”

He nodded, still grinning as he waved to one of the bartenders, trying to get their attention.

“You know,” I said as I studied him for a few seconds. “I think I could see that.”

Now he choked on a laugh and shook his head. “Kind of hard out here, though, don’t you think? It’s a little urban.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” I said, smiling. “But where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“Miss Thomlin, are you insinuating that there might be a second date in the offing?”

I nudged him, nodding toward the bartender approaching us. “I wouldn’t rule out the possibility yet.”

A couple of random fragments out of the Epsilon universe as I play around with things out of order.  Will they make the final cut?  Who knows.  I keep trying to figure out where one book ends and another starts–which is, in fact, the never-ending struggle when it comes to that particular universe.

Until then, enjoy.

Shattered

“So what I’m hearing is that this is going to be dangerous and you need all the backup you can get.”

Wil’s expression closed up, though not before I saw the flicker of horror and fear. “You’re not coming.”

“The hell I’m not,” I said, leaning against the table to peer at the spinning world that hovered above the projector. “At the very least, you’re going to need another set of eyes. Having another gun at your back also probably wouldn’t be a bad thing.” My gaze flicked toward Luc, who leaned back against the wall, frowning, fingers drumming against his knee.

“She’s not wrong, Wil. We don’t know enough.”

“We know they’re trying to bury him there.”

“Probably worse,” Luc murmured, then rubbed at his temple. “But at least we know where to start.”

“Then it’s settled,” I said. “I’m going.”

I could feel the weight of Wil’s stare. My gaze flicked up to meet his and for a second, I thought I felt something familiar as our eyes locked and something played out behind his eyes, a muscle ticking at the corner of his jaw, as if he was trying to hold something—or a lot of somethings—in check.

“Fine,” he finally ground out. “But if it looks like it’s getting too hot—”

“Then cross that bridge,” I said, cutting him off, still staring at him, my voice level and even. He looked like he wanted to look away but couldn’t. My hand twitched—I wanted to reach out.

I didn’t, though. I fought the urge down and straightened, crossing my arms. The sudden—maybe not so sudden—protectiveness was something we’d deal with later. Now wasn’t the time and this wasn’t the place.

“When do we leave?” Luc asked quietly. Wil finally tore his gaze away, turning toward him even as a sigh escaped his lips.

“As soon as Mac has the Scarletready, I guess, and as soon as you tell Sam that she’s in charge while we’re gone and Ren’s coming with us.”

“I’ll get my gear,” I said, turning toward the hatch. “You want me to tell Sam, Luc?”

There was a moment’s hesitation, then: “No. No, she should hear this from me. I’ll tell Kara, too. Hopefully she’ll stick with Sam until we’re back.”

“Even if she doesn’t, Jack’s here,” Wil said. “Should be okay.”

Should, I thought. Barring any disasters, everything would be just fine until we could get back—hopefully with Jason in tow. And that’ll settle a lot of folks down in ways they don’t even realize we need, I think.

Redeemer

“He’s asleep again.”

I nodded absently as Ren stopped to stand beside me, standing on the stone steps out to the cathedral’s garden. She followed my gaze to the misting, icy rain that was likely to turn the pavement to skating rinks unless the temperature came up a few degrees. It boded ill for the city’s recovery, whatever that ended up looking like.

They sure as hell made a mess, didn’t they? Less than twenty-four hours on the ground and they left havoc in their wake.

“You okay?”

I glanced at her sidelong and managed to smile. “You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah, well. I think all of us are in that kind of complicated zone right now.”

“Complicated is certainly one way to put it.” I crossed my arms and exhaled a plume of steam. “There’s a lot of levels to it, I think.”

“Agreed,” she said, then scrubbed a hand over her face. “But at least we’re alive, right? For it to all be complicated and layered.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Yeah, that’s definitely a plus.”

“He’s going to stay that way, right?”

The whispered question shot a chill through me that had nothing to do with the weather. I had to take a deep breath and try to center before I was able to form coherent enough words to answer. “I have no intention of it being otherwise.”