Exceprts

The Triplets of Tennerton – Second Excerpt

/ JD Byrne / 1 Comment

In this excerpt, Ben has been retained by Grace to work on the case of Sid Grimaldi. First up, that means visiting Sid in the local jail and getting his story, which goes beyond “I didn’t do it.”

“Sid,” Ben said, mustering his softest tone, “I can’t imagine what that was like, the pain and the horror of that night. But I know that for years you’ve said that you don’t think your girls died in that fire. How could that be?”

Sid sat up and wiped his eyes again, like he was resetting himself, moving into a different mode of conversation. “I can’t explain it, I just know it in my bones.”

“You understand that from my vantage point, someone who came into this not knowing anything about you, it just doesn’t make sense.”

“But you have to believe me!” Sid reached out and grabbed Ben’s hands.

Ben decided to lie a little. “I want to. I really do. And I’m perfectly willing to listen to any odd theory you might have. Trust me, I’ve seen some things you wouldn’t believe.”

Sid released him and sat back. “Like what?”

“I can’t really say.”

Sid scowled. “You’re bullshitting me.”

“No, no, that’s not it,” Ben said, trying to sound convincing. “It’s just that . . . well, you know how anything you tell Grace or me or the other investigator who’s working on your case is privileged? You could tell me right now that you set that fire knowing full well your girls would die, and I would have to keep that secret.”

Sid gave him a hard look. “You made a promise. To keep a secret?”

Ben nodded. “I know you don’t know me and you’ve got no reason to trust me, but I do keep my word. I’ve promised the people involved never to talk about it, but, yes, I’ve seen something you’d never believe. Still, that doesn’t mean I’ll believe anything anybody tells me. What makes you think your girls are alive?”

Sid slumped back in his chair. “I told you, man, I don’t know. It’s just something in my gut. You got kids, man?”

“No,” Ben said, continuing to hold back as much personal information as he could.

“Then you don’t know. You know things about your kids that you can’t explain.”

“If that’s true,” Ben said, deciding to press a bit, “how come Teresa doesn’t believe you?”

It took a moment for Sid to come up with an answer. “You’ll have to ask her. I mean, we all have our own truths. Hers was that she had to get on with her life, for Toby and herself. Mine is that I can’t get away from what happened that night. It’s why I’m here, ain’t it?”

Ben was willing to concede the point. He was also ready to conclude that Sid’s belief about his triplets wasn’t much more than wishful thinking, so he decided to pivot away for a moment. “You mentioned the stuff about the shed and the ladder. Is there anything else you remember that was odd? Not just about that night, but any time after the triplets were born?”

Sid closed his eyes, looking deep in thought for a long while. “There was this one thing,” he said finally. “It was while everybody was still in the hospital. I’d gone to get some things for Theresa. When I came back, there was this man in her room, talking to her.”

“A man?” Ben asked. “Was it a doctor or nurse, some kind of technician?”

“I thought he was, at first. From behind, he had the same kind of build as Teresa’s doc. He was in a suit, but I figured he had just stopped in on his way in or out of the hospital.”

“He wasn’t a doctor?”

Sid shook his head. “He was asking Teresa all these questions, but they were the kind the doctor would already know, right? When the girls were born, the specific time. The date. He stopped when I asked him who he was.”

Ben leaned in just a bit. This was the first out-of-place thing Sid had said that resonated with him. “What did he say?”

“Just that he heard about us in the news and he wanted to wish us good fortune,” Sid said. “I remember that now. Who does that?”

All Ben could think of was how, in the modern world of social media, everything about those girls would have been online, and people far and wide would be doing just that. Still, it was odd for someone back then to do it in person. “Wait, did you say he read about you in the news?”

Sid nodded. “Didn’t say where, specifically, but we were in the news a little. Triplets, identical ones no less, are kind of rare.”

Ben marked that down as one more thing to follow up on. “You remember anything else about this man? What he looked like? I don’t suppose he gave you a name.”

“I asked his name, but he wouldn’t give it. He weren’t rude about it or nothing, just, what’s the word,” Sid paused for a moment. “Slippery. Guy struck me like he lied for a living.”

Ben fought back the urge to make a joke about lawyers. Sid’s fate was in the hands of one, of course.

“Other than that, the only thing I remember is that the suit he was wearing was black. Black coat, black tie, white shirt. It looked kind of old fashioned, yet very crisp.”

“Huh,” Ben said.

The Triplets of Tennerton – coming May 29

Pre-order now for Kindle and other eBook formats.

The Triplets of Tennerton – First Excerpt

/ JD Byrne / 1 Comment

Ben’s business model, such as it is, for his website is to do in West Virginia what he’d been doing in London for the “loony rags” – reporting on sightings of odd things, trying to get to the bottom of them. In this excerpt he’s returned to the home of a older, drug addicted, woman named Isabel who thinks UFOs are landing in the woods nearby. What he finds, well, isn’t quite that.

He grabbed a flashlight from the car. “You wait here,” he said, fairly sure Isabel didn’t need him to tell her what not to do. Flashlight on, Ben leaped across the creek and started walking toward the light show.

Ben was worried that he might get lost, lose the track of the creek as he headed toward the event, so he kept his eyes down, looking at the path he illuminated with his flashlight. It wasn’t a straight shot to the clearing, if that’s where he was headed. The sound was angry but hypnotic, on the one hand warning him to stay away, while on the other drawing him in. It was almost as if someone was mixing the heaviest of Metallica or Tool with the clang of Kraftwerk’s “Metal on Metal.”

Eventually, he was close enough that the lights were so bright that he could turn off the flashlight. The path had taken a turn so that the light show was directly ahead of him, in the clearing Isabel had described. Ben crouched down, moving slowly toward the scene. In among the din, he started hearing things that sounded familiar, almost like a squealing of distorted guitars and . . . vocals?

Ben could see that the trail ended at the top of a slight rise with a fairly steep grade. There was a thick branch blocking the way, so he crouched down behind it, leaning on it to keep from falling over. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, much less hearing.

There was a bonfire. Not a very big one, but enough to add an orange glow to the light show that was made up of red, white, and blue stage lights. The ground to one side of the bonfire was covered with some boards to turn it into a small makeshift stage. On stage there were four people dressed in what Ben assumed were costumes and masks, some with horns. In front of them, a small crowd of a dozen or so other people danced and writhed, most with their own masks on. One of the people on stage held a microphone and bellowed into it, croaking out those Cookie Monster–style vocals that some are so fond of.

This wasn’t a UFO. This was heavy metal.

Ben chuckled and got out his phone and recorded about thirty seconds of video. This would be a good story for the site, and the video should be enough proof to convince Isabel that she didn’t have to worry about visits from MIB anytime soon.

He was ready to head back, so he instinctually pushed on the branch, like it was the bar of a guardrail. It wasn’t, and it snapped when he put his weight on it, sending Ben sprawling down the side of the hill. He did his best to make a run of it with a sense of control, but he tripped over a root and went tumbling. His phone flew from his hand, and he let loose a stream of curses at the top of his voice until he hit the ground, hard.

His fall did not go unnoticed.

Most of the music stopped. There was a grating metallic sound that kept going, some kind of loop on a computer that hadn’t taken note of him.

One of the dancers ran over to him. At closer range, Ben could see that they were wearing a devil mask. “Y’all right, man?” said a woman with a twangy drawl.

“I think I’ll be all right,” he said, pushing himself to his knees. His left side hurt worse than when he’d broken a rib in an ill-fated attempt to impress Tara by playing rugby. His right hand was scraped and bloodied. Nothing else seemed to be wrong, but he knew he’d be sore in the morning.

As he got to his feet, the lead singer of the band arrived with a few others in tow. “Who are you that would disturb this ritual?” He was trying to sound tough and threatening, but it wasn’t quite working. The costume, a second-rate Gwar knockoff, wasn’t helping.

“Ritual?” Ben asked, steadying himself.

“We gather here, far from prying eyes, to praise our dark master,” the singer said, gesturing toward the fire. “Hail Satan!”

The others gathered around called out as well.

The Triplets of Tennerton – coming May 29

Heroes of the Empire – A Second Excerpt

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

As promised, here’ the second of two excerpts I’ll be sharing from Heroes of the Empire this month (for a third, exclusive one, join my mailing list!). In this one, Rossum witnesses how far the Emperor will go to hold on to power.

Rossum kept his eyes on the soldiers behind the barricade, the ones who now had their rifles in their hands. Some clutched at them so tightly, their knuckles were turning white. Rossum knew that look, that pose. They were frightened, getting into something they weren’t ready for.

The soldier on the barricade yelled something again, but even with the bullhorn it was drowned out by the crowd. He flung the bullhorn to the ground and went to his belt, reaching for his pistol.

Before he could unholster the gun, a bottle flew out of the crowd. It smashed against the barricade just at the soldier’s feet, shattering into pieces. The soldier threw up his hands to cover his face, lost his balance, and fell backward off the barricade. The crowd roared a cheer of approval that gave way to laughter.

Rossum didn’t think it was funny. These outnumbered, nervous soldiers had seen one of their leaders humiliated and possibly hurt. There needed to be de-escalation of the situation, not the pouring of more coals on the fire. He started to look for the best way out of here, off the stoop and down the street to safety.

The soldiers behind the barricade were looking for guidance. Their eyes flitted from each other to the lieutenant, who had yet to say or do anything. After a long moment, he drew a sword and climbed over the barricade. About half the troops did the same.

“Go home!” the lieutenant yelled, waving his sword. “This needs to stop!”

“We are home!” someone yelled from the front of the crowd. It moved back a few steps as the soldiers advanced, but resumed the chanting. “Our street! Our homes!”

Rossum knew the lieutenant had made a mistake. Even with bayonets, the troops were hopelessly outnumbered by the crowd. It was only the threat of gunfire, with the soldiers safe behind the barricade, that was keeping things somewhat calm.

The soldiers and the crowd had now realized the situation. After retreating a few steps, the chanting crowd started to inch forward again, back toward the barricade. The soldiers stood their ground for a moment before they started shuffling backward toward the barricade. Members of the crowd had started to pick up rocks, bottles, or any other items they could lay their hands on.

The strange, slow dance continued until what Rossum had thought inevitable happened.

One of the soldiers, sliding back on his feet, backed up until he ran into the barricade. He lost his balance and, without thought, pulled his trigger. Thanks to his falling backward, the shot fired harmlessly over the crowd’s head, but it didn’t matter.

Rocks, bottles, and other projectiles flew out of the crowd toward the soldiers. None found any particular target, but it prompted the lieutenant to start barking orders. In rapid fashion the soldiers still behind the barricade raised their rifles and fired into the air.

The ragged report of gunfire caused the crowd to stop, but only briefly. Another salvo of rocks emerged and the mass of humanity surged forward, sending the front rank of soldiers finally scrambling back over the barricades.

Rossum surveyed the block again. If he could get into the crowd and make it through to the other side, he could slip down an alley. He didn’t know where it went, but it would provide better cover if the troops started shooting. He could feel in his gut that they were going to.

He stepped off the stoop, down the street, and plunged into the crowd. He began to pick his way across, fighting the flow of the human stream like a salmon heading home to spawn. He brushed past two people, touching them, but neither seemed to notice. They were too busy chanting and pushing toward the barricade. Then he ran straight into someone without looking, knocking the other person down.

Rossum stopped and extended a hand to help the young man back up. His eyes went wide when he saw the man’s face. “Moth?”

“Rossum?” Moth said, grinning as he got back to his feet. “You’re one of us? I knew it!”

“Look, you need to get out of here,” Rossum said.

“No way,” Moth said, shaking his head. “We need to stand up to these animals. We have to show them that we won’t be frightened.” Moth’s voice started to waver just a bit, like he was trying to convince himself.

“You should be frightened,” Rossum said, nerves on edge as he listened for the next volley. “They’re going to start killing people.”

Heroes of the Empire – Out June 7. Preorders available here for Kindle and here for other ebook formats.

Heroes of the Empire – An Excerpt

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

Here’s the first of two excerpts I’ll be sharing from Heroes of the Empire over this month (for a third, exclusive one, join my mailing list!). In this one, Belwyn shrugs off an old nemesis and is introduced to a new ally.

As Neven approached, Belwyn asked, “Is there a problem?”

“Only that you haven’t signed on yet,” Neven said. She was more pleasant than Belwyn remembered her ever being in Annanais. She was enjoying this. “I realize that’s not likely.”

“The gods returning to Oiwa is more likely.”

Unfazed, Neven said, “I wanted to thank you, before we’re done.”

“Thank me?” Belwyn chuckled. “For what?”

“You did the right thing, much as it surprised me. Not when you ran away from us and not when you put this rabble together, but at least when you realized where all this might be heading, you finally did the right thing.”

“And where is this heading?” Belwyn was generally curious what Neven might know, or just suspect, since she was apparently still in Chakat’s good graces.

“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “These loyalty oaths are not coming as quickly as was hoped. The emperor himself is going to relocate to the Imperial offices in Jerrod Square to take them personally. He thought it was going to bring the Empire together, but there is so much unrest out there.”

“That’s because the Empire is pulling apart,” Belwyn said. She was already an outlaw, what additional risk was there in telling Neven what she really thought? “It’s largely Chakat’s fault, of course. If he’d listen to the peoples’ complaints . . .”

Neven put up a hand. “I’m not here to talk politics, Lady. All I’m saying is that the women who stay behind, including yourself of course, will continue to be outlaws. If the emperor feels the need to deal with you more forcefully, he won’t hesitate.”

“That’s the risk we’re willing to take to get the answers we want, the change we need.” Belwyn did her best not to show that she was getting sick to her stomach. Visions of soldiers with more loyalty to Chakat gunning down ranks of marching, chanting women filled her head.

One of Neven’s underlings got her attention, and, without saying any more, she returned to her post.

Belwyn walked back into the woods, telling Valpari to come find her if anything else happened. She went to her tent, where Coleman, Granger, and a few others she didn’t recognize had congregated.

“How goes collaboration with the enemy?” Granger asked with a sarcastic smile.

“I’m giving the women who want to leave the chance to do so without risk,” Belwyn shot back. “I genuinely care for their safety.”

Before Granger could say anything else, Coleman jumped in. “How many are leaving?”

“Some,” Belwyn said, being deliberately vague. “When all is said and done, we’ll still have a sizeable host. And we’ll know that everyone left is completely committed.” She decided to shift the focus of the discussion. “Neven told me that Chakat is going to start taking these oaths in person?”

One of the young men Belwyn didn’t recognize nodded. “He’s moving to Jerrod Square in the next few days.”

“Then it really isn’t going as well as Chakat thought,” Belwyn said. “At least that’s something.”

“It’s promising,” Coleman said, “but it’s leading the vigilance gangs to step up their patrols, recruit new members. Now they can demand papers, require people to show their loyalty cards, and hand out beatings to those who don’t have one.”

“Good gods,” Belwyn said, leaning against the end of the table. “Don’t people have more time to sign them?”

“Of course,” Granger said, “but Chakat isn’t getting the obeisance he wanted, and the vigilance gangs are an extension of his dissatisfaction. He wants more oaths, given more quickly. How better to assure that than to throw in the threat of a random beating?”

Belwyn shook her head. Things were getting worse. “We can’t keep waiting for some perfect situation to move. Are your people ready?”

“Almost,” Coleman said. “Another few days.”

“I’m not sure we have it,” Belwyn said as Brixton ran up, out of breath. “What is it?”

“Someone to see you, says he has an offer,” he said. “He managed to get here from Cye without being seen and avoided the queue out by Neven’s table, all her men.”

Belwyn stood up, scowling. “Another offer? About what, this time?”

Brixton shrugged. “Hagan’s waiting with him near the edge of the camp.”

Belwyn was bone weary from the day. She didn’t want to deal with another distraction, but what choice did she have? “No more than a few days, Coleman. We can’t let things get away from us.” She left without giving him a chance to object.

Brixton led her through the camp, to the opposite edge from the location where Neven’s sign-ups were underway, where the valley met the high hills that helped define the outskirts of the city.

When they arrived, Hagan was standing with a thin man about her age, with prominent ears. No hat.

“Lady Belwyn,” he said, extended a hand. “Or is it just Belwyn these days?”

“Just Belwyn. And you are?”

“Aton Askins,” he said, shaking her hand. “I think we might be able to help each other.”

Heroes of the Empire – Out June 7. Preorders available here for Kindle and here for other ebook formats.

Widows of the Empire: A Second Excerpt

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

One more week until Widows of the Empire comes out! Here’s a second excerpt, in which Belwyn, stuck in exile in Annanais, finally receives a particularly stubborn caller.

That the Temple of Rend meant something to Belwyn didn’t mean she had an idea of what this particular acolyte wanted with her. She’d made the gesture to rebuild the temple in Cye after the explosion that led her to Cotber and started her examination of Port Ambs. Hagan had made all the arrangements and Belwyn hadn’t given it much thought. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, a decision made in the wake of sorrow washing over her for people who had lost a place where they could worship. Just because she didn’t need such a space didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the loss.

She wracked her brain, trying to remember if the temple had reached out to her. Maybe they had contact with Hagan, but she couldn’t conjure any memory of meeting with them. She hadn’t expected to, but why not? It would have been impolite not to acknowledge their benefactor. What if they didn’t know? Belwyn couldn’t remember telling Hagan to make the donation anonymously, but she might have. If that was the case, how would any acolyte know about her role?

She was sitting in the courtyard, after lunch, when Neven approached.

“It’s time, Lady,” Neven said, gesturing toward the formal receiving room.

Belwyn followed, pushing down a lump in her throat. A guard, one of Brixton’s men, opened the door for them. Neven waved Belwyn through, then followed behind her.

There were three people waiting for them in the room. Two were Brixton’s guards, who were making a display of their rifles, holding them in their hands, ready for action. They looked menacing, not the generally easygoing men who rarely did anything with their guns but sling them over their shoulders. In between them stood a man in a long, grey robe, complete with a hood that partially hid his face. Belwyn could see just a scrap of a beard poking out from underneath. He was hunched and looked frail, particularly between the two guards.

“Is this necessary?” she asked Neven, while gesturing toward the guards. “This is a man of the gods, after all. Can we not treat him with some dignity?”

Neven gave a signal and the two guards shouldered their rifles and left the room. “It was merely a precaution, Lady.”

After the guards left, Belwyn gestured for the man to sit on one of the stuffed chairs by the window, which he did slowly, shuffling with short steps. Belwyn sat down across from him while Neven took up her place a few feet away. Either she, or one of her underlings, had to be close enough during meetings to make sure no one told Belwyn something inappropriate.

“Lady Belwyn,” the acolyte said with a slight bow, his voice rough and low.

“You have me at a disadvantage, sir, since I do not know your name,” she said.

“You may call me Gendil, Lady, if it pleases.”

She smiled. “I once had a horse named Gendil. I was very fond of him.”

“A favorable coincidence, Lady.”

The was an uncomfortable silence. “What is it I can do for you, Gendil? I understand you come from the Temple of Rend in Cye. Is that right?”

“That is why I am here, Lady,” he said, “but I am not from the temple in Cye.” He paused, glancing over at Neven.

Belwyn followed his gaze, sensing an opportunity. “Is there a problem with Neven?”

“I’ve spoken with her many times,” Gendil said, “but what I have to say is only for your ears, Lady.”

Belwyn turned to Neven. “I think you can see that there is no risk or danger here, Neven. Can you leave us alone for five minutes?”

“You know I can’t, Lady,” Neven said.

“Your people have made exceptions before,” Belwyn said. It wasn’t strictly true. She’d managed to get her handlers out of the room for moments here and there, but never this blatantly. She hoped the thought would throw Neven off her guard just enough.

“Not with my permission,” she said.

Belwyn shrugged. “Regardless, nothing untoward has come of it. You can keep Britxon’s men on the other side of the door, for all I care, but surely five minutes to indulge this gentleman isn’t too much to ask.”

Gendil shifted in his seat toward Neven, like the effort of doing so was almost too much for him to bear. “Madam, if I may. What I wish to discuss with Lady Belwyn is of a sacred nature. The rules of my order emphasize confidentiality in personal interactions. I understand if you must be present, but do know that it will be an imposition upon my faith.”

Belwyn looked at Neven with pleading eyes. Gendil’s evocation of religious dogma made her skin crawl, but the idea that he wanted to talk to her alone was intriguing. Not to mention, the sooner Neven left the room, the sooner she could be done with this. After all, the man had appeared for two weeks straight and was unlikely to take “no” for an answer. “Five minutes?”

Neven looked like she was going to fire off a cable to Chakat about this, to try and get out of this assignment. But Belwyn had seen that look before, a look of resignation. “Very well. I wouldn’t want to interfere with a religious exercise. I’ll be back in three minutes.”

Belwyn waited for the door to be securely shut behind Neven before saying, “Thank you for coming to see me, Gendil, but I have to warn you, I’ve never had much use for the gods.”

Gendil straightened and pulled back the hood of his robe. “How could I ever forget that, Lady.”

It took her a moment, but once she studied the eyes, she knew. Belwyn put her hands over her mouth to contain the scream of excitement that welled inside her. She took a deep breath, then whispered, “Hagan!”

He nodded. “Yes, Lady.”

Widows of the Empire
Out November 10
Preorder now for Kindle or other eBook formats

Widows of the Empire: Excerpt

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

Continuing on with some posts about the upcoming Widows of the Empire, here’s an excerpt from the book in which Aton goes to meet a persistent potential new client and gets quite the shock:

Aton realized that he never really liked The Ferry. It was conveniently located in Cye, a good place to get business or meet someone, but it wasn’t the kind of place he liked to hang out. Aside from slamming down a drink after a job was over, he rarely came here just for the sake of it. Now, finally, he knew why.

The place was crowded. Not because there were so many people here, but because of how the room was laid out. The long, curving bar was enormous. Tables in the middle of the room were arranged haphazardly. In addition, the bare wood interior amplified every voice in the place. Even though there were only a handful of people here, the din was distracting. He was amazed he was ever able to conduct business here. He maneuvered the obstacle course of tables and chairs to make it to his old spot in the back corner.

While he didn’t miss The Ferry, Aton could admit to himself that he missed being downtown. The new house was lovely and bucolic, but it was also quiet and isolated. He’d grown up in Cye and was used to the noise, the crowds, and the occasional stench. It’s why he’d toyed with the idea of finding a small office somewhere nearby in case he needed to handle anything that came up in the city. Truth was, however, the only business he would do was with Laffargue, and that happened at the Voisine. An empty office was an expense that didn’t make any sense.

He had arrived half an hour early, supposing that Vesper wouldn’t show until their arranged meeting time. Whatever his talents, Vesper didn’t strike Aton as one who thought of worst-case scenarios and alternatives. Like a dog with a bone, he was relentless and driven, but not particularly creative. Being early allowed Aton to control the terrain, like a general pushing his troops to secure high ground before a battle. Maybe he was overthinking it, but better to be over prepared.

He passed the time scanning the crowd. It was like any skill, one he had to practice for it to be sharp when it was needed. There was part of him that wanted to find Okun there, although he had no idea what he’d say to him. He was here for work, after all, and maybe Okun would be, too. There would be no reason for them to just have a drink together. The issue never came up, as the big, bald man never made an appearance.

Aton was just about to start clock watching when he saw Vesper slip in the front door. He looked around a few times, less like he was trying to find Aton than like he was getting the lay of the land. After a moment he held the door open and a person walked in the door. Shorter than Vesper, shorter even that Aton, the individual was wearing a deep blue floor-length cloak with the hood drawn up around the face. Aton thought it was a tad dramatic, but everyone had their quirks.

Vesper led his client through the room, slamming his leg into a chair about halfway through.

Aton suppressed a laugh.

He reached Aton’s table and tipped his cap. “Mr. Askins, glad to see you here.”

“I made a deal, didn’t I?” Aton said. He waved at Vesper to stand aside. “So who is this mystery client?”The figure behind Vesper stepped forward and lowered the hood of the cloak.

“Oh, shit,” Aton said, deflating. “Ethyna.”

Widows of the Empire
Out November 10
Wherever fine ebooks are sold

Gods of the Empire Excerpt

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

If you’ll recall, my new book, Gods of the Empire, comes out in a couple of weeks! To whet your appetite a bit, here’s an exclusive excerpt.

In this scene, Aton responds to a note that will change his life forever:

The Hotel Voisine traded in discretion. Aton could tell that from the exterior of the building, which had almost no ornamentation on it at all. It looked more like the anonymous Imperial buildings nearby rather than the other luxurious hotels. Unlike the Hotel Woodburn across the square, with its ostentatious arch and bizarre carved faces, the front door of the Voisine was simple and did not announce itself. On closer inspection, one would see the fine grain wood used in the doors and the gold plating on the fixtures. But the only real sign of exclusivity, of upper-class opulence, was the doorman.

He wore a uniform of deep green, with bright yellow trim and immaculately polished gold buttons. He was six inches taller than Aton, if not more, and weighed another fifty pounds, all of it seemingly concentrated in his arms. Aton showed him the envelope, but before he could try and talk his way in, the doorman opened the door and tipped his cap. “Welcome to the Voisine, sir.”

Inside, the reserved nature of the design was inverted. The entryway was five stories high, with great skylights in the roof that allowed the afternoon sun to fill the place with light. It looked like any other hotel lobby—there were a pair of couches and some large, comfortable chairs with end tables—only taken to the most luxurious extreme. Aton wanted to stop and just pet the nearest couch, to try and divine which rare animal had given its hide for the comfort of the Voisine’s guests. But the moment he slowed his walk, he felt the eyes of every one of the half-dozen people in the lobby on him. He didn’t make eye contact, but he didn’t have to.

A smiling older gentleman stood behind a pink marble counter at the end of the lobby. “May I help you, sir?” he asked as Aton approached.

Aton showed him the envelope, but didn’t pull out the note inside. “I was told to meet a Mr. Laffargue here? Didn’t say where, no room number—”

The man cut him off. “Of course, sir, Mr. Laffargue. He is expecting you in the meeting room on the second floor. Upstairs, then left, then through the double doors.”

Aton paused for a moment. Surely there had to be something more. He was a stranger to these people, a nobody from off the street. Yet he was being treated as an honored guest. Aton decided to go with it. “Thanks.”

He turned at the top of the stairs and found the double doors. He almost walked directly in, but thought better of it and decided to knock. Anybody who could afford to set up shop at the Voisine could afford a goon or two waiting inside to break the leg of any unwanted, or at least unanticipated, visitor. He knocked, then went inside when he heard a muffled reply.

The room was deep and narrow, with a long table of dark, polished wood taking up much of it. The table was surrounded by about a dozen chairs. It was the kind of room where a board of directors might meet. Yet there was only one other person in the room. He was sitting at the far side, but not at the head of the table itself, as if he didn’t quite rise to that level. A stylish bowler hat sat on the table next to his chair.

The man stood up. He was shorter than Aton and about ten years older. He wore the girth of a comfortable life. “Aton Askins?”

Aton nodded.

“Please, come sit.” The man waved to the chair across the table from him, then sat back down.

Aton sat down. “Mr. Laffargue?”

The other man dipped his head. “Indeed. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Askins. Can I offer you a drink of some kind? Just a word and they can pour anything you’d like.”

“No, thank you,” Aton said, trying to get comfortable in his seat. He put the envelope on the table.

“You know why I’m here. That gives you a leg up, so why don’t you tell me what I’m doing here?”

Laffargue grinned. “My, my, why the hurry?”

“I’m a working man, sir. I’ve come considerably out of my way to this meeting, so I need to know, sooner rather than later, whether it’s worth my while.” In truth, he had nothing else to do, but he wasn’t about to let a potential employer know that.

“I can respect that,” Laffargue said, shifting in his seat. “I have a job for you. A long-term proposition, something that would require exclusivity until it was complete. Would that be a problem?”

Aton was thrown off balance by the suggestion. Usually he had two or three jobs going all at once, although now he had hit a bit of an empty patch. “As it happens, I do have an opening in my schedule going forward. However, if you want me to turn business away, I’d need to be fairly compensated for that.”

“Oh, I don’t think compensation will be an issue,” Laffargue said. “But before we talk specifics, I need to know if you’re interested. If not, there’s no point.”

“How long are we talking?” Aton was intrigued.

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Gods of the Empire, book one of the Unari Empire Trilogy – coming October 1.

Preorder your copy now.

Water Road Wednesday – Final Excerpt from The Bay of Sins

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

In this final excerpt from The Bay of Sins, Hirrek scours the Neldathi city of Albandala for information about the murder of a thek. He needs to ask questions some people don’t want to hear. They’re happy to vent their displeasure toward him:

The continued celebration made the enclave louder than the others he had visited. It was nearly impossible for him to hear what people around him were saying as he passed by. The crowd was thick enough that just moving through it without running into people was a challenge. Without knowing it, his avoidance maneuvers eventually took him to the outskirts of the enclave, near the edge of the city itself. He breathed a bit more easily there, enjoying the open space. The din of the crowd rumbled in the background.

That was how they took him by surprise. The first blow knocked him to the ground, his face landing hard on dirty packed snow. He managed to roll over and see three people standing over him. All had the green and white Elein stripes in their braids.

“Keeps poking around,” one of them said. He was younger than Hirrek and not as big. “Like he’s got a right to know something.”

“You’d think he’d learned by now that nobody wants to talk with him,” said another. He was older and standing back from the other two a bit.

“People can talk to whomever they want,” Hirrek said, getting ready to stand up.

The third one, about Hirrek’s age and even bigger than he was, kicked him in the side. “How’s that for talking?”

The first one laughed. The older one didn’t. Hirrek made a note of that as he crumpled to the snow and tried to catch his breath.

“If you have nothing to say, that’s fine,” Hirrek said after a few moments, managing to make it to his hands and knees. “But you have no right to keep me from talking to others.”

“Who gave you the right to start asking?” asked the second man. The third one kicked Hirrek again, sending him back to the ground, face first.

Hirrek spat dirty snow from his mouth and did everything possible to hide the pain he’d endured so far. “The Maker gave me that right, as she did for all of you.” He didn’t expect that to work, but wanted to see what they said at the mention of the Maker of Worlds.

“A blasphemer as well,” said the first man.

“One goes along with the other,” said the third.

“You see?” said the older man. He looked to be the leader of this little group. “This is what you get when you give yourself over to the blasphemy of one god. This one’s from Clan Dost, not that you’d know it to look at him. He’s free to do whatever he wants, but what right does he have to tell us?”

“Yeah!” the other two said.

“He thinks just because his father pretends he’s jeyn now he can go anywhere he likes.”

“My father doesn’t think he’s jeyn, and doesn’t pretend to be,” Hirrek said, slowly getting back to his hands and knees.

“What does he think he is, then?” asked the second man.

“He thinks he’s doing his best for his people,” Hirrek said, speaking slowly and trying to get a good feeling for where his attackers were. The two younger ones were on either side of him now, while the older man stood a few feet in front of him. They weren’t thinking this through very well. “The best for the Neldathi people. All of them.”

“He’s not got the right,” the third man said, before he tried to kick Hirrek one more time.

This time he was ready. Hirrek lunged forward just as the kick came. The man’s foot glanced harmlessly off his lower leg while Hirrek sprang on the older man. He was taken completely by surprise and was driven to the ground by Hirrek’s charge. Hirrek wasted little time exploiting his advantage, punching him twice in the face and knocking him out.

He stood and readied himself for the others, but neither had come to the aid of their master. They stood with fists raised, poised on the balls of their feet, but neither moved.

“I don’t have any business with you,” Hirrek said, eyes flitting back and forth between the two men. “But him, I need to talk to.” He kicked at the foot of their master. “That means either you can leave or I can make you leave, since I don’t need either one of you to make it through the night. Understand?”

It was an empty threat. He was outnumbered and wasn’t carrying a weapon. He didn’t want to be known as walking through the city interrogating people with a knife in his hand, so he’d intentionally gone out without anything threatening in his possession. He’d give anything to have one secreted away in one of his furs. He just hoped that the others thought he was armed.

They looked at each other, then dropped their fists and took a few steps back.

“Don’t want to have nothing to do with you,” the first one said. “Right?”

“Right,” said the big one.

They turned and walked off together, hurrying but not running back to the crowd, the noise, and the fire.

Hirrek grabbed the other man, still thoroughly unconscious, under each arm and began to drag him through the snow toward the center of the city.

The Bay of Sins arrives March 22 – pre order now for the low launch price of 99 cents! Get The Water Road and The Endless Hills while you’re at it!

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Water Road Wednesday – Second Excerpt from The Bay of Sins

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

In this excerpt from The Bay of Sins, Rurek arrives in Modrozon Crossing looking for someone. Not a friend, but a familiar face from readers of The Endless Hills – the thief turned soldier Martoh. In between, these two have developed a little bit of bad blood.

 Martoh sits down:

“Well, well, well,” he said, looking very satisfied with himself. “I believe the words were, ‘I’ll never come anywhere near this place again, you filthy criminal.’ Was that about right, Rurek?” While he spoke, he fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist.

Rurek cleared his throat. “Nice to see you too, Martoh. Believe me, when I said that I meant it. If circumstances were any different I wouldn’t be here.”

“Then I am truly touched that, in your hour of need, you found your way back here.” He signaled to someone, and a drink, some kind of deep-green alcohol, arrived within moments. “Have you had the ordem? It is a local specialty, requires a special kind of grain that grows wild around here. Very strong, but a wonderfully complex flavor, if you can handle it.” He took a long, slow sip and set the glass down on the table. “The girl is fine, by the way. I thought you might like to know.”

“I don’t care.” That was a lie. There wasn’t a night he didn’t think about the little girl and what her life was like in Wellston. He wasn’t about to let Martoh know that, however.

Martoh shrugged. “So be it. What, then, brings you so low that you would go back on your word and return to Modrozon Crossing, to this pub, and seek me out? I hope you did not gamble away all that money. It was so hard-earned.”

“After a fashion,” Rurek said, stifling a chuckle. “I got the money I needed to do what I needed to do. Problem is, now I’m not sure what to do with what I’ve got.”

“How cryptic. If you will not tell me what the problem is, I cannot help you.”

“Except I don’t really trust you.”

“You must trust me a little, Rurek, or you would have gone somewhere else. Did I cheat you? Did I tell you I would pay and then not pay, or pay less than we agreed?”

“No.” Rurek had to admit that.

“Did I lie to you about the nature of the work? And I mean lie, Rurek, really tell you something that was not true?”

“You didn’t tell me—”

Martoh raised a hand. “I told you what you needed to know to complete the task. Entirely accurate information. That you did not ask more questions, better questions, before taking my money is not my fault. You needed the money badly enough to keep you from asking those questions.”

“You’re being overly technical.”

“Overly technical is what put me in prison. Why should I not use it to my advantage now?”

Rurek knew Martoh had been in prison before the war and that he didn’t think he belonged there, but he didn’t know details. He didn’t want to know. “If that’s how you want to live your life.”

“It is.” Martoh sat back, looked out the window, and smiled. “Now that our reunion is out of the way, what is it that you think I might do for you?”

The Bay of Sins arrives March 22 – pre order now for the low launch price of 99 cents!. Get The Water Road and The Endless Hills while you’re at it!

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Water Road Wednesday – First Excerpt from The Bay of Sins

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

The first excerpt from The Bay of Sins. In this scene, Mida, the healer in Innisport who Antrey put in charge of the city, has been arrested and charged with treason and collaboration with the Neldathi. Using a code delivered via a wadded up piece of paper thrown over a wall, she reached out to her neighbor in prison:

After supper, when she knew she’d be left alone for the night, Mida moved the desk chair next to the wall she shared with C4 and waited. She wasn’t sure if her neighbor would try to make contact first, but Mida thought it wise to wait. Such communication was against the rules, and she wanted the defense, if only in her head, that she didn’t break them first. She was on the verge of giving up and getting into bed when she heard it.

Six taps, faint, like a small metal pick scratching on rock. The sound repeated itself over and over.

The night before, Mida had pried a piece of metal out from under the desk. It was part of a brace that held the desk up, but it was already lose when she found it, and the desk seemed perfectly sturdy without it. She fetched the metal from its hiding place near the toilet and tapped six times in response, then waited.

The code came, slowly and deliberately. Mida wasn’t certain if the other person was being slow for her benefit or not, but she appreciated it regardless. You are new?

Yes, Mida tapped back, quietly sounding out each letter. Two days ago. You?

Long time, came the answer, a little quicker this time. What for?

I don’t know. It was only partially untrue. She was certain it had something to do with Phichan’s need to punish those who worked with the Neldathi during the occupation, but she had no idea what the specific charges were yet. You?

War.

War is over. Mida didn’t understand.

Not for me. Name?

Mida chuckled. They were prisoners, and, naturally, went straight to talking about why they were in prison. Small details like names were secondary. Mida Innis, Healer, she tapped back. You?

Bist, her neighbor tapped, of Clan Kohar.

The Bay of Sins arrives March 22. Get The Water Road and The Endless Hills now!

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