An author's musings, combined with a weekly Cosplay Interview and the weekly serialization of New Tamsbridge Nights, an urban fantasy / horror setting where vampires, mages, and other creatures of the night vie for power and supremacy in an endless struggle.
The Day Is Done was quiet that night, and Marcus and Sam ate without incident. As they left and started to head down toward the warehouse district, towards Marcus’s apartment, the fog grew thick again until visibility was restricted to no more than ten feet. The hair on the back of Sam’s neck started to rise, and a chill ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the rapidly falling temperature. “Trouble,” he said.
Sam’s classes dragged by. He was exhausted, and every minute seemed to take a lifetime. When he finally got out it was late afternoon and he rushed out of the classroom. The sun was bright on the quad, and for once there was little fog, but it was bitterly cold. He hurried, thinking about all the things he had to do before patrol, and almost ran straight into Kennedy.
profits. This hotel was a prime example; despite being mired in this cesspool of a town, it was doing very well. She walked outside into the small courtyard behind the hotel. It had a small fountain that burbled quietly, and the stone walls made it seem like something out of another century, an effect enhanced by the bits of old statuary. She stopped near an old piece, a bust of a viking warrior set in between two overflowing flower planters. She reached out and touched its stone cheek with the back of her left hand.
When Sam made it home, he found Audrey asleep in the big green fuzzy easy chair. He tucked a blanket over her and kissed her on the forehead and went back down to the bookstore. He was tired, and he still hurt all over, but there was work to be done.
The waxing moon was bright and nearly full over the fog-laden streets of New Tamsbridge. It was the middle of October, and the wet chill hanging in the air like the freezing breath of winter kept the streets eerily quiet. When the metal door opened, the din of the industrial club inside seemed hugely loud and alien, and when it clanged shut the sound echoed down the streets like rolling thunder. At the corner of the alley, a black-clad woman smiled to herself. She had been waiting. She strained her ears, and she heard it, barely: the quietest gasp of feigned passion. Her smile grew, and slowly drew her dagger out from its sheath hidden at the small of her back, hidden underneath her designer leather jacket. I’d prefer a gun for a serpent in a back alley, but bloody things haven’t arrived yet. The knife will do for now. Besides, if I’m lucky, it will be otherwise engaged. She slipped out of her stilettos, pushing them into the shadows under a fire escape, and turned the c…
A good easy lunch if you have a few minutes, exploding with all the flavors of Lazio and Sicily- so celebrating both the Mediterranean bloodlines of yours truly. According to the stories (probably apocryphal), this was a quick and easy meal Italian prostitutes cooked themselves between clients. Alternatively, it was a meal they used to attract customers.