5 Days of New: Day 4 - Dark Secrets: Paranormal Noir
If you like noir, and you like urban fantasy, you’re going to love this one. It’s a self-published cooperative effort between the five of us in the anthology … because we really wanted to get together and do it, and Mina Khan is a goddess, you have no idea.
GORGEOUS. And yeah, it’s a sexy, dark collection of sexy, dark stories that you’re going to just devour like dark, dark chocolate. Makes a great stocking stuffer!
And you can order it NOW from these fine vendors:
Want a teaser? WHY NOT. My story’s entitled “Marion, Missing,” and it’s set in the 1950s in Fort Worth, Texas … a story of racism, danger and flawed heroes.
When he looked back, Tilde was sitting in the chair on her side of the empty desk with her legs crossed. She'd pulled her hair back, and was winding it up into a bun on the back of her head. A thin yellow pencil secured it in place. He remembered when she’d used nothing but chopsticks, glossy lacquer ones with dangling beads or good luck symbols. These days, a pencil would do. They'd both come down in the world.
This was the third time he’d seen her in the two days since she’d been found; he’d seen her four times before that. She was still pretty, for the most part; her dark eyes still glimmered under long lashes, her high cheekbones gave her face a lush, heart-shaped look. Death hadn’t taken much; the only things that gave it away were the uneven spots on her fluffy white sweater. There hadn’t been as much blood as you’d think, for a woman stabbed twelve times with an ice pick. The first one had been to the heart, and after that, it was just liquid wicking out.
You had to be alive to pump blood out of open wounds.
“I can’t stay away,” Tilde told him. “Besides, the case is still open.”
“I’m not working the case.”
She said nothing. There was a maddening little smile on those carmine lips, and her sharp, narrow eyebrows canted up. Tilde didn’t smoke, but if she did, he thought she’d have been cradling one between her fingers, letting the smoke curl up like a question mark.
For a ghost, she was damn persistent, and the sight of her made him feel sick, weak, and useless.
“Just go,” he told her. “I can’t help you, doll, and you won’t help me. All you gotta do is tell me who did it. That’s all.”
The silence was as dark as her eyes. He’d asked her that first night, while she was still missing, while she’d sat on the edge of his bed and looked around his cramped little apartment with distaste.
He understood that, it was a pit, and he didn’t care. He'd thought then that she was really there, really alive, until he’d put his hand right through her. She’d already been dead, wearing that same fuzzy sweater with those uneven bloody polka dots, though her body was still drying out behind the trashcans on Lancaster Street, out back of the massive Deco block of the train station.
She’d been there for three long summer days before somebody found her. Well, the flies had found her. Ants. A stray dog or two. Summer was a hard time to die in Fort Worth, Texas.
Hell and Texas. Hard to tell the two apart, sometimes.
It’s a love story, a murder mystery and a story of vengeance all rolled up into one. So what are you waiting for? It’s perfect for that gift you’ve been looking for!