The Marked Woman

“We’re going to Chicago,” Twitch said.  Tears leaked from her yellow eyes and streamed onto the bathroom porcelain.  “Eddie knows a hoodoo woman there, and we’re going to contact the Infernal powers and make a deal.”

“Eddie?”

“The guitar player.  He sold his soul and he wants it back.”

“And what does Jim want?”

Twitch sobbed openly now.  “He wants to be… to be left alone, I think.”

“And you want back?” Jane nodded at the foam-covered mirror.  “Somehow, you can strike a bargain with Azazel that will let you back into the Mirror Palace.”

Twitch nodded and shuddered.  “I need his forgiveness,” she wept.

Jane shook herself mentally; enough games.  Time to take quick action.  “Do you know who I am?” she prompted the creature.

“You’re the Marked Woman,” Twitch nodded.  “You’re Cain.”

Jane raised the iron knife to plunge it into the fairy’s body.

Bam!  Bam!  Bam! came a hammering at the boor.

“Twitch?” called a man’s voice.

Posted in Writing Sample | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Adamic

The fairy moved off alone.

Wellman’s had been built in a building that had once been a railroad station.  Its walls were two storeys tall and made of brick, and its windows and ceiling had a Gothic look about their arched apices.  Bare lightbulbs hung in straight rows from very long wires, and the crow wheeled slowly around them.  A length of track still ran along one wall, terminating at either end in blank brick wall.  The restrooms squatted off a short hall tunneling out perpendicularly from the bar, over a bridge of planks that had been nailed into place to limit the tripping opportunities for drunk patrons with urgently pressing bladders.

The fairy skipped over the bridge and headed into the restrooms.

Jane followed.  She prepared as she went, slipping an iron knife—not steel, iron—into her right hand and a digging a small glass vial from the pocket of her duster with her left.  She checked the vial visually as she passed under a lightbulb to be sure she’d grabbed the right one—the glob of quicksilver inside slid back and forth and she smiled without pleasure.

The wards of dissembling were her general travel disguise because they were so simple to erect and so costless to maintain, but they would lose effectiveness if she walked directly up to the fairy.  As the drummer stepped into the mouth of the restroom’s hall, she cast a long, pale shadow by the hallway’s lights.  Jane stepped firmly onto the shadow and spoke a few words.

If anyone in the hall had heard the words, they would have been unable to decipher them, or even remember the sounds, two seconds later.  She had spoken in the tongue of her birth, a language that hadn’t been spoken on earth for millennia, and which most humans were no longer able, by divine fiat, to understand.  The language was Adamic, and Jane understood it because she had been born before the great tower, the Confusion of the Tongues, and the First Great Scattering.  She was subject to the Fall of Adam—she was its firstfruits—but not to the Curse of Babel.

She spoke her spells in Adamic because it was one of the Primals, and a powerful language for magic.  As soon as she had spoken this one, and willed some of the force of her ka into it, she became invisible.  Everything looked the same to her, but she knew that to any other observer who had been able to see her at that moment, she would have vanished into the fairy’s shadow.

Posted in Writing Sample | Tagged , | 2 Comments

Snow Fairies Don’t Wear Pants (reprise)

And here I am again, with my first filk riff on Platte Clark’s forthcoming Max Spencer and the Codex of Infinite Knowability.

Posted in Song | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

The Gift of Solomon Kane (reprise)

Got me a YouTube channel now.  I’m going to celebrate this weekend by reprising some of my prior video postings of me.  Here I am with my prize-winning performance of “The Gift of Solomon Kane”.

Posted in Song | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Rock Band Fights Evil

So I’ve been working on this project for several weeks now, which makes this “launch announcement” strangely timed.  Still, the project now has mass and momentum, and I want to formally announce it.

Rock Band Fights Evil is my pulp fiction serial, in the tradition of Solomon Kane, Silver John the Balladeer and Hellboy.  It’s about a ragged dive-bar band whose members all have grudges against the powers of Hell, and are on a mission to get back their own.  Each installment of Rock Band is a short novel, 30,000 to 50,000 words long, and, until further notice, Rock Band will only be available in ebook formats.

Rock Band #1 is Hellhound on My Trail.  It’s been available from Smashwords since December 30, 2011.

Rock Band #2 is Snake Handlin’ Man.  It will be available from Smashwords this weekend.

Rock Band covers are by Carter Reid.  Rock Band has its own website and CafePress store, and I will from now on maintain Rock Band links in the margin of this blog, and keep you posted of interesting developments.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Change

Eddie opened his eyes to the sight of dangling feet and a sheet of ice.  He felt weak and sluggish.  “Where am I?” he muttered.

“The ass end of the universe,” Mike told him.  “In Nowhere, Oklahoma.  At Sears.  Locked in Customer Service.”

“Soon to be the belly of Apep the snake-god, though,” Twitch added cheerfully.  “They say that a change is as good as a rest.”

Posted in Writing Sample | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Only One Way to Find Out

He couldn’t see the bottom of the passage.  Below and ahead of him, he saw Apep.  With his Infernal eye, Eddie again saw the gigantic man with the head of a serpent.  Apep wore an Egyptian-style headdress and simple white kilt, he had sandals on his feet, and he held a curved sword in each hand.  And he was massive—maybe fifty feet tall, though the darkness and the distance might be deceptive.

Through his normal human eyes, Eddie saw an enormous cobra, hood flared—

headed his way.

The flake of sharpened stone in his hand now seemed totally inadequate.  He really wished he had a decent gun.

No, he needed another kind of solution.  What had Irving said?  Sympathetic magic, like produces like.  He was inside the ritual now, inside the summoning spell.  He needed to do something to stop it, like producing like.

He realized that, out of reflex, he was patting his pockets.  What did he have?  The usual stuff.  No hand grenades, sadly.  His fingers found the plastic cup with the game of jacks in it.  He’d bought the game at a gas station because the girls had liked jacks when they were younger, playing it on the stoop of the apartment building when they were supposed to be doing homework, and it had given him something to stare at and reminisce.

He pulled out the cup and ripped the top off.  Could this possibly work?  Or was this more insane than his Funky Chickenesque six-part sistrum performance?

Only one way to find out.

Posted in Writing Sample | Tagged , | Leave a comment

42wd

As of last week, I am a contributor to the blog over at 42wd publishing.  You can see today’s post here.

And two posts from last week, here and here.

Posted in How to Write | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Dance

Eddie shuffled and kicked his way into the row of sistrum players and snatched sistra away from them.  As he plucked the instruments from their grip, the players kept playing, shaking their empty hands intently as if they were still making sound.

They were in trances.  Or ensorcelled.  Or high, although people who were stoned shouldn’t be able to make such a complicated, coordinated sound together.

He thought he’d grab all the instruments and silence them, but there were too many of them, and then the rest of the worshippers lunged his way.  He looked over his shoulder for help, but the others were distracted with their own problems.  Aaron Irving was standing, snake arms raised high and chanting as nude women crouched around his feet like feral cats.  His brother faced off against him, staggering forward one step at a time like the Nehushtan was a boulder and he had to push it.

Eddie grabbed a handful of the instruments and retreated.

Eddie, who was as good as stoned on snake venom, shouldn’t by rights be able to play anything at all.  The crowd loomed huge around him, naked and sweating and full of breasts and totem poles, and the room spun.  But he was the world’s best tambourine player, dammit.  The world’s best.

Eddie jammed a sistrum handle into the top of each combat boot.  He pinned a handle in the crook of each elbow by bringing his fists up to his shoulders, and he held two more in his two hands.

And he started to dance.

Posted in Writing Sample | Tagged , | Leave a comment

You’re Talking to the Wrong Guy

“This is all just sympathetic magic,” Irving sniffed.  “James George Frazer?  The Golden Bough?

“Nope,” Mike frowned.  “You’re talking to the wrong guy.  The guy you want got bit by a snake and is lying in a coma in a topless bar.”

“Look, it’s simple.  Like produces like.  So if you don’t want the gods to see, you set up their images and you blind the images.”

“Why the four sons of Horus?” Mike asked.  “What about all the other gods, like… uh, Odin and Odysseus?”

“The four sons of Horus stand for the four cardinal directions,” Irving said thoughtfully, “and the four seasons.  They represent the whole universe.”

All the gods,” Mike said.  “I get it.  So we take off their hoods and then what?  The gods see and step in?”

Irving shrugged.  “I don’t really know.  I think these things are all intricately tied together, so hopefully if we take the hoods off, it crashes the whole summoning.  Or maybe, yeah, whoever it is that put Apep in his cage in the first place jumps in to keep him there.  Ra the Sun God in some stories, or Bast, who had the head of a cat.”

“Don’t like her,” Twitch tsked.

“See?” Eddie snarled.  “I knew I should have gone into Egyptology.”

Posted in Writing Sample | Tagged , | Leave a comment