Splintered (Reflections) Page 14

  It was like I'd been doused in cold water. The anger was still there, but it wasn't at the forefront of my being like it had been before. If I'd had any doubts they were gone now. How could Alec possibly see the error of his ways when everyone around him held the same kind of callous beliefs?

  I found myself retreating into the safety of the formality that had characterized most of my previous exchanges with Donovan.

  "Could you please ask Alec if he's able to see me?"

  If the abrupt change in tracks threw Donovan for a loop, he didn't show it.

  "I'm sure he'll drop whatever he's working on. I'll go let him know you're here."

  I watched a tiny bird with curiously bright markings jump from one flower to another while I waited. A few seconds later Alec came around the corner and joined me in front of the manor.

  "Adri, I'm so glad you came by. You haven't been returning my calls and I was worried. I would have come by your house, but I didn't know if that would get you in more trouble with your mom. Didn't you get any of my messages?"

  "I got them; I just didn't think it was a good idea to call you back."

  "I'm really sorry about what I said. You didn't deserve that."

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and handed it to him. "Here, this is yours."

  He looked at the phone, turning it over in his hands for several seconds. "Adri…we had a fight. A fight that took place right after we'd both been in the most stressful situations of our lives. Neither of us was thinking very clearly."

  I interrupted, shaking my head slowly. "This isn't about our fight. Mom decided to move us away from Sanctuary."

  "You don't have to go. We'll get you legally emancipated. If that doesn't work, I'll arrange for you to be kidnapped. You could disappear until you're eighteen. You can stay, I want you to stay."

  I nodded. "I'd like that, I really would, but it won't work. My mom needs me. More than that, you need to understand that I'm leaving because of what you allowed to happen, not just while Agony was here, but before. You have the ability to be a great leader, but you're not going to realize that, not unless something makes you understand what you give up by treating people like they are property."

  Alec shook his head. "We had a fight; we're having a fight, even. Don't run away. I love you, I really do."

  "I hope you do. If you really do love me then maybe this will be the wakeup call you need. Don't try to stop me, don't call me, don't swing by for a visit. We're over."

  I turned around and walked away but not before three scenes burned themselves into my memory.

  Jess and Isaac. She looked scared and lost, a stranger in a world where everyone she met knew more about her than she did. Isaac looked so very alone. He had lost the person who most understood him and in her place was a stranger he felt obligated to take care of.

  Jasmin had been standing partially hidden by a tree, but even with the foliage obscuring most of her face I could all but read her mind. She'd hurried to Ben's house the night Alison had died, but Agony had kept us all too late. Ben was gone, probably for good, and he would spend the rest of his life craving a high she'd never be able to satisfy again.

  Jess, Isaac and Jas were bad enough, but it was the sight of Alec that nearly ripped my heart out of my chest. He'd stood strong while Brandon tried to kill his friends and family. He'd never even flinched when Agony was within centimeters of triggering the fight that would have destroyed us all. He was so strong, but now he looked like I'd hollowed him out and left a robot where his heart used to be.

  I forced myself to keep walking. I made it all the way back to the Jeep before I broke down. As we drove away I tried to tell myself I'd done the right thing. I wasn't sure anymore though. All I knew was Alec wouldn't forgive me. Right or wrong, there wasn't any going back.

  --The Story Continues in Intrusion--

  Author's Note:

  To be honest, as I write this I'm a bit nervous about how Splintered will be received. On the one hand I'm a writer. On the other hand, I'm a fan of Alec and Adri's story--I guess really the very first fan. As a writer this was exactly where the story needed to go, and I'm not sure that I've ever managed to write something this powerful before now. As a fan, I'm positively broken up about where Adri left things, and knowing what comes next for them doesn't make things any easier.

  Fan-Dean, who happens to be a hopeless romantic, wants all of you fellow fans to know that the ride will be worth it. We've got a couple of other things we need to go see before we get where all of you want to go next, but those stories are part of what Writer-Dean knows needs to happen before Alec and Adri can continue their journey.

  If you've enjoyed, Broken, Torn, and Splintered please help spread the word. Every tweet, blog post, review and recommendation to a friend is immensely helpful and greatly appreciated. Also please consider signing up for my mailing list. I will only use it to announce new releases or pass along other information that my fans are indicating they want to know.

  In the meantime to help you bridge the gap till the next release, I've included excerpts for Handoff (the first Dark Reflections story) and Frozen Prospects below. I hope you enjoy them both.

  Acknowledgments:

  As always, thanks needs to go out to everyone that continues to provide support in dozens of different ways. When an author chooses to go the indie route, it means they absolutely rely on their fans to get the word out, and I'm very appreciative everyone that blogs, reviews, or otherwise helps put Torn and Broken on the map.

  There are a few individuals who deserve special mention. Larry and Mark who faithfully read and review just about everything I write. Mimi who served as an advance reader and righted my faulty biology facts, and Cammie who was one of the early converts. There are also several bloggers and other reviewers who deserve special mention. Jennifer at readingandwritingurbanfantasy.com, Sam at papercutsya.blogspot.com, Sandra at ratherbarefoot.blogspot.com, Shana at sizzlingreads.blogspot.com, and Sharonda at sexxyladeeblogger.blogspot.com all Reviewed Torn and/or Broken.

  Additional thanks need expressed to Obsidian Dawn, www.obsidiandawn.com, for brushes used in the creation of the cover for Splintered.

  Finally, none of this would be possible without my wife Katie, who puts up with long hours from me while she does heroic work on the editing and covers.

  About the Author:

  Dean started reading seriously in the second grade due to a competition, and has spent most of the subsequent three decades lost in other people's worlds. After reading several local libraries more or less dry of sci-fi and fantasy, he started spending more time wandering around worlds of his own creation to avoid the boredom of the 'real' world.

  Things worsened, or improved depending on your point of view, when he first started experimenting with writing while finishing up his accounting degree. These days Dean has a wonderful wife and two lovely daughters to keep him rather more grounded, but the idea of bringing others along with him as he meets interesting new people in universes nobody else has ever seen tends to drag him back to his computer on a fairly regular basis.

  Keep up to speed on Dean's latest projects at http://www.deansonlinefiction.com/, deanwrites.blogspot.com or follow me on Twitter @Writer_Dean

  Handoff Excerpt

  "If this goes on much longer, I'm going to have to kill someone just so we can see some real action."

  Pitch looked like he wanted to cuff Mouth, but even Pitch had to think twice before getting physical with Mouth. It wasn't Mouth's appearance. Compared to some of the merc's that routinely worked for the Lieutenant, Mouth was practically a choir boy. Blond hair, blue eyes and a square jaw that had been known to lure in girls who really should have known better.

  It wasn't ever the surface that tipped people off about Mouth, it was all the stuff just under the skin. Adam was pretty sure Mouth was ex-military, but if so he'd never made it through his tour to be honorably discharged. Anyone who'd spent time at the front knew you could get away with a lot when it was
just you and your unit stuck in the middle of some forsaken bit of swamp, but Adam had never been in any unit that would have let Mouth pursue his more exotic vices, and Mouth wasn't known for his self-restraint.

  Pitch, an ex-sergeant from the Marines, apparently decided he couldn't let the comment pass without a least making motions to rein Mouth in.

  "Quiet. You're supposed to be pretending to be a hole in the night."

  "Whatever, Pitchy. This is just another milk run. I signed on to get stuck in, not babysit abandoned train yards."

  "I don't care what you signed on for, you signed on. That means until the Lieutenant says otherwise, you'll babysit whatever I tell you to babysit, or you'll be out on your ass again looking for work."

  For a second it looked like Mouth was going to respond, but he settled for flipping Pitch off and rolling back over onto his stomach. It'd probably been that last bit that had pulled him up short. Even a sniper as good as Mouth couldn't count on a steady stream of jobs if he was stupid enough to piss of the few merc's with the kind of contacts to put real work together.

  Mouth likely had warrants out in every state on the west coast. When you had money little things like the police being after you weren't necessarily show stoppers, but Mouth spent it faster than even he could bring it in. If he pissed off Pitch enough for the wiry, black ex-Seal to convince the Lieutenant to drop him, he'd have to turn to wetwork to pay the bills, and he wasn't smart enough to get away with that for long.

  Satisfied that he wasn't going to have to worry about putting a round into Mouth's back, Adam rested his cheek back against the stock of his L115A3. The night sight currently letting him pierce the darkness, had cost the better part of five grand, and still was a fraction of the cost of the rifle it was mounted on.

  It rankled more than a little that the Lieutenant had brought Mouth in on this job. If someone else had asked Adam along on a stateside mission he would have told them no. There was just too much risk of getting tangled up with law enforcement. The Lieutenant had told Adam more than once that mercs made their living on the fringes of civilization, and smart ones chose the fringes not in North America.

  The call asking Adam along on this particular foray into lawlessness hadn't included an explanation as to the reason the Lieutenant was breaking his own rules, but Adam hadn't pressed. The Lieutenant had saved Adam's life six years ago when there hadn't been an upside and Adam had been his man ever since. He'd served as overwatch on the last half-dozen missions he'd been asked to join, and he'd saved the team's ass more than once.

  .338 rounds were more than capable of ripping through light vehicles at the appropriate ranges. Bringing along Mouth and his .50 Barrett was both overkill and stupid. Adam just couldn't see any scenario where they were going to run into full-blown armored vehicles this go around. Even the up-armored SUV's some of the drug cartels used in this part of Arizona didn't justify dealing with Mouth's attitude, not on a mission Adam hadn't wanted to be on in the first place.

  A burst of static signaled orders from the Lieutenant. "Our principle will be arriving shortly. Some kind of handoff occurring. Our orders are to keep him from being disturbed."

  "Right. Like I said, a milk run. Thermals aren't picking anything up, and there's nothing but desert for miles. What in the hell was Union P thinking putting a yard all the way out here?"

  "I'm serious, Mouth. Can it. We've got movement coming from this direction."

  Adam resisted the temptation to take his attention off of his slice of the horizon and rubberneck. Pitch would let him know what he needed to know. The old man had served as a spotter for nearly two decades on more continents than most people could name without looking in an encyclopedia.

  Instead Adam reviewed the layout of the rail yard. A single two story building with some kind of metal awning over the door stood just to the west of a central open compound. The snipers and Pitch had set up on the building since it gave them the most commanding vantage despite the blind spots created by the scattering of smaller structures surrounding it. The rest of the team was spread out to cover gaps between buildings and help provide eyes on the dead spots that the overwatch team couldn't see.

  "Two vehicles inbound. Looks like SUV's of some kind. They're running dark."

  Pitch's voice had dropped into the smooth cant of someone used to pointing out targets without startling his men enough to make them miss shots.

  "Damn, everything's all happening at once. I've got a pair of semi's that just came around the hill. They part of the plan or do I get to do something about them?"

  "They're expected. The handoff is supposedly container sized."

  Something flickered across Adam's scope. Too fast to be anything land bound but bigger than any bird he'd ever seen.

  Frozen Prospects Excerpt

  Va'del looked up at the tiny violet time sphere that provided the only light to the room and then hunched further down on his sleeping mat. The thin pad of woven gurra wool provided only minimal cushion between him and the cold stone floor of the sleeping chamber.

  The chamber was barely three paces to a side, empty but for his one change of clothes and the dim time sphere that almost chased the shadows back to the far wall. There was barely room to stretch out let alone hide.

  Even in the rambling caves where the People made their home, a private chamber was usually a sign of status. In his case it was just evidence nobody was willing to spend any more time in his company than absolutely required. He listened to the slow drip of water somewhere out in the darkness and wished there was a way to disappear. As much as he might desire otherwise, it was inevitable that Pa'chi would eventually show up and try to drag him to weapons practice.

  She claims she doesn't want me to get into trouble, but how do I really know? Maybe she actually wants to see me humiliated. Just like everyone else.

  The lanky teenager felt a twinge of guilt at the thought, which was very nearly a betrayal of the closest thing he had to a friend in the village. Even that guilt couldn't keep his thoughts from the imminent beating.

  Muffled footsteps echoed through the cold warren of tunnels gradually becoming distinctive enough to recognize. Va'del's heart sank a little further as he realized it wasn't Pa'chi who'd come to collect him.

  Va'del scrambled to his feet just before Jas'per stepped into the dim violet light. "Come on orphan. Everyone already suspects you're a coward. You wouldn't want to miss weapons practice again and give them proof would you?"

  "I practice just as hard as you do, Jas'per."

  "And yet you lose every time."

  Jas'per pushed Va'del along ahead of him. Any time Va'del slowed too much for Jas'per's taste the older boy shoved him again. Several times it was all Va'del could do to catch himself, shredding his hands on the uneven walls. All too soon Va'del stumbled into the best lit section of the entire village.

  Jas'per smiled at the flock of girls watching the boys warming up. They giggled and smiled back. Va'del tried to look for Pa'chi without being obvious, but Jas'per rolled his eyes.

  "Your little girlfriend won't be here, darkie. She can handle being around you in the dark, but not even she likes to be reminded how much of a freak you are."

  Ignoring the giggles and averted eyes, Va'del crossed over to the storage racks on the wall where the practice equipment was kept. He winced a little as he shed his outermost layer of clothing. Once he actually started weapons practice he'd warm up in quick order, but until then he'd have to deal with more giggles at the way his teeth chattered in the cold.

  As Va'del struggled into one of the padded jackets and simple helmets that would shield him from some of the fury of Jas'per's attacks, he tried to shy away from the bubble of resentment over the legacy his lowland mother had left him.

  Before Va'del managed to work himself up too much more, Jas'per's father, the village Headman who also served as their weapons instructor, finally arrived. A subtle grimace of distaste flickered across his face and then he began pairing the students o
ff. As usual Jas'per and Va'del were matched against each other despite the fact that Va'del lost six touches out of seven.

  Hefting his blunt practice sword with its elongated hilt designed to be usable when the user was wearing heavy mittens, Va'del waited for the command to attack, and then stabbed at Jas'per. The older boy knocked his blade aside and Va'del had to duck away from a riposte aimed at his head.

  Feeling his stomach sink at the force of the blow, Va'del tried to convince himself that he'd be okay. A gasp of anticipation raced around the cavern from the watching girls.

  Jas'per wasn't quite as tall as Va'del despite being older, but like most of the People, he was more powerfully built. As always, he used that advantage ruthlessly. Each attack landed with a shock that made Va'del's palms tingle despite his efforts to parry so that the force of each swing was simply redirected instead of countered.

  Completely on the defensive now, Va'del stepped back enough that a particularly furious attack went whistling past him, and then without conscious thought stepped forward and kicked Jas'per in the stomach before the older boy could recover.

  Jas'per would have pressed the advantage ensuring that everyone was able to see his dominance. Va'del knew that would just result in him being hurt more seriously when they next squared off. He started to back away and then gasped in pain as the weighted end of the Headman's training cord snaked out and found the back of his unprotected legs.

  "This is weapons training you pagan monster. If you can't attack your opponent with your blade, don't bother attacking at all. Do it again."

  There may have been a collective gasp as Jas'per regained control of his breathing and moved forward, but if so Va'del was too scared to notice. Jas'per's fury was a cold thing that always made him more dangerous rather than less. The last time he'd been made to look foolish he'd put Va'del in the healer's care for a week.