Ink – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted on

“You doing okay?” Alerich grimaced in the chair, the uncomfortable feeling of the needle penetrating his skin like the rough tongue of a cat scraping over a sunburn combined with thousands of tiny claws perforating his chest. The pain seemed to grow more intense the longer the artist worked on him, but Alerich was determined to see this through. “I’m fine.” The tattoo artist grunted and bent his head back over the design, wiping away blood and excess ink with a practiced swipe. Alerich watched him work, the outline of the blond raven done in white ink finished, and the Read More …

Understanding – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted on

Winter tied the last stitch and gently patted the therian wolf’s shoulder. “All done.” The wolf growled, and Winter slowly removed her hand, her eyes hardening as she stared the young therian down. The wolves of Seahaven used dominance fighting as their favorite sport, but Winter was in no mood to resort to fisticuffs against an amped up injured therian with something to prove. Not that she would have any chance against him in a physical match. Wizards were neither as fast nor as strong as therian, and they didn’t heal as quickly. Then there was the problem that wolf Read More …

Special Delivery – A Books of Binding Short Story

Posted on

Cian woke in the dark to an urgent rapping on his bedroom door. Winter’s low voice carried through the wood. “Cian, we’re on.” Cian sat up in bed, trying to parse that. On? On what? English wasn’t his first language and sometimes idioms — he hoped it was an idiom — tripped him up. He pulled his jeans on and made his groggy way across the spacious room to find Winter on the other side of his door, dressed in her usual loose dress and cardigan, her purple bag over her shoulder and her surgical bag heavy in her hand. Read More …

He Offers Countless Hearts – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted on

Rome. The Olmec stood on the parapet of the long wall guarding the boundaries of the ancient city that sprawled across the seven hills, facing the darkness to the east. If his calculations were correct, and they had been correct for thousands of years, the Sun would rise within the next few minutes. Rise. Please rise. Woodsmoke and the smell of emptied chamber pots tickled his sensitive nose, and somewhere below a drunken fight broke out. Somewhere a whore hawked her wares. Somewhere shops were pushing their eaves open, preparing for the day to come. A city that never truly Read More …

Proof – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted on

George Joji took another close-up shot. It was real. It was really real. The thickness of the nail, the toughness of the callouses on both hands and feet. The wicked nail edge that could probably slice through flesh. Everything else about the naked man seemed perfectly normal. No fangs, no fur. So where did they keep it all—? “George, you know you’re not supposed to be down here. The mortician is threatening to turn you into a classroom skeleton.” Detective Lawrence Robertson approached from one side of the gurney, George stood on the other. George peered closely at the body’s Read More …

Recoil – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted on

“Spread your feet to shoulder width. Right foot back. No, not that far. Your shoulders are too thin.” Etienne narrowed his eyes. “When was the last time you ate?” Winter gave the faerie knight at her side a wry expression. “This morning, with you and Cian. Remember?” The November wind whispered over the water and blew loose tendrils of hair across her face. She was grateful for the warm felt coat she wore. “Then you need a snack or something. You’re still sickly.” His voice was gruff. She sighed softly. He was only trying to take care of her. She Read More …

Things Fall Apart – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

Posted on

He sniffed the air. The scent of burnt bones and under it—blood. A lot of it. And the outhouse smell of violent death. He walked the utility area carefully, reconstructing the deadly dance from a lifetime lived among its devotees. The spatters of brown flecks. The dust-free smears where a body had been dragged, struggling. A broken fingernail caught in the chain-link. The cloying smell of burning hair and garbage, and just a hint of cucumber. Acetone. At least they had destroyed the body, but it meant the attackers were not human. A human gang might have doused the body Read More …