Lavender-colored rose against a technology background

Lavender Rose

“Daaammmmian,” a honeyed voice rang out from his apartment. “Please refrain from killing my men. I have no intentions of harming you.” The Syndicate obviously wanted him alive. Ignoring the voice, Damian used his free hand to quietly open the window at the end of the hall. “Really, Damian, I just have a job for you. There’s no need for this violence,” said the man.

Instead of entering through the open window, Damian moved to the closest apartment door. “I don’t work for the Syndicate anymore!” Damian shouted and shot down the hall, masking the sound of his boot kicking the door open. The door bounced, eliciting a scream from behind the door.

Slipping in quickly and quietly, gun first, Damian noted an obese naked and tattooed man stumbling back from the door swearing about a broken nose. The man’s belly bounced as he landed heavily on his rear. Damian pointed his gun at the man. “Shut up,” he said, his voice cold and deadly. He quickly shut the door behind him. The apartment’s layout looked like a mirror image of his own. The likeness ended there. This man’s slovenly messes littered every room. A terrible stench wafted out of the kitchen, and in the bedroom, a woman hid her nakedness behind some cheap blankets. Damian pointed the gun at the woman and repeated, “Shut up, now!”

The man nodded enthusiastically, encouraging her to capitulate. His eyes were wide with shock and fear, and blood stained his unruly beard. Damian returned his aim to the man.

After determining that the man and woman had acquiesced, Damian turned his body to the side, enabling him to peek out of the spy hole in the door while still keeping the pistol trained on the obedient man behind him. He heard the group out in the hall talking amongst themselves in Japanese. “He must have gone out of the window,” one said. Then the honeyed voice spoke again. “Follow him; don’t lose him.”

 

If you enjoyed this excerpt, stay tuned for more in Michael C. Sahd’s upcoming full-length novel, Lavender Rose (The DuFonte Chronicles, Book 2).

Lavender Rose
Lavender Rose Working Cover
The Unfettered Child Working Book Cover

The Unfettered Child

Meanwhile, here’s a sneak peek into Michael C. Sahd’s upcoming fantasy novel, The Unfettered Child:

“In all the countless moons of my life, I have never met an elf, Abizou.” The strong deep voice emanated from what appeared to be a human skeleton into a throne room which appeared richly decorated, but devoid of life. Even as it spoke, the skeleton sat motionless on its marble throne, its bones loosely wrapped in red and white silk robes embroidered with gold. Gold and marble made up the decor of the large room, with scatterings of white banners that each featured a red sun.

They are treacherous, Havelle. Almost as treacherous as you, said a woman’s voice, seemingly from nowhere.

The skeleton’s head turned slowly to gaze sightlessly upon a round blue-faceted gem resting on a velvet red pillow. Two red pinpoints of light glowed in the hollows of the skeleton’s eyes. “What do you suppose they want? I could not discern with my magic.”

Elves have powerful mages, who put shields in place to protect against any such divinations. Also, they are not known to parley with lesser beings, said the woman’s voice, apparently originating from the gem.

The skeleton’s gaze turned back to the large double doors at the entrance of the hall. Distant horns could be heard, marking the approach of the elves. The skeleton stood, pulling itself up with a copper and silver staff. No sooner did it take a step down the dais than a yellow halo enveloped it. Then, like a strange liquid, muscle, followed by flesh, flowed around the bones and filled out the draping robes.

Now, in front of the throne stood a strong and handsome olive-skinned man. He looked over at the blue stone sitting next to the throne and smiled. “I’m pleased you think so highly of me,” Havelle said.

If the stone could have scoffed, it would have. Instead, it said nothing.

Havelle stepped to the right of the throne. Flattening his robes with hands now covered in flesh, he said, “I think, perhaps, I sleep too much.”

Your lineage manages the empire just fine without you, said Abizou.

After hundreds of years, Havelle sighed for the first time. Enjoying the sensation, he sighed again.

Troubles? asked the gem.

“Troubles? No, I’m just enjoying the sensations of having a body.” He smiled wickedly at the gem.

The Unfettered Child

The Unfettered Child

A new novel by

Author Michael C. Sahd,

Coming this Autumn!

Author Michael C. Sahd

 

Railroad Tracks And Silos
Standing by the Railroad Tracks . . .

 

Looking Into the Sun
And Looking Into the Sun!

Here are some new photos of me, contributed from a friend.

Also, it is Tuesday, which I hereby dub a “Teaser Tuesday”:

Pulling his heavy denim jacket closer around his lithe body, Damian let out a puff of cold mist, and shivered from more than just the cold.

Being stuck in North America for two years had been the most unpleasant time of his life. He had spent these years living off mice half the time, sometimes fighting wolves for his claim to the tiny rodents. The other half of that time, he had spent starving.

Briefly, toward the end of this stint, some crazy cult of religious people who avoided technology like the devil had taken him in, until he left to find a more civilized settlement. The settlement he found was deserted. He fell asleep in a shack and woke up unable to open the snow-packed door or windows. This memory, more even than the cold, elicited his shiver.

Feel free to let me know what you think of this teaser and/or these pictures in the comments below.

~ Michael C. Sahd

Michael and Ian, at Ian's Wedding

Today is Tennis Tuesday, so we went to the park to play some tennis. Today also seemed to be a productive day on the writing front. Because I’m in a good mood, I’ve decided to share a preview of what I’m writing for the sequel to “Assassin Marked,” which I may or may not use.

The restaurant had alternating yellow, blue, and green tablecloths, except for the booths that lined the walls of the diner. These booths had no tablecloths, but what they did have was occupants. It was as if the gaudy tablecloths repelled customers, except for two unfortunate families who could not find an available booth.

Noise from the chattering patrons and the clattering kitchen, created an incoherent babbling with the occasional shout of a child carried above the rest.

The walls were decorated with paintings of flamenco dancers, mariachi players, and old Mexico streets from the 20th century on earth. Ponchos and garish sombreros also squeezed into this decor, between the paintings.

The smells of tacos and chili made Lavender’s mouth water. She and Damian sat across from each other in a corner and at one of the booths. They had been waiting for awhile, and in a low intestinal groan, Lavender felt her stomach begging for food.

Damian leaned forward, “I don’t like this place. If there’s trouble, then we’re boxed in . . . .”

That’s all you get for now! What do you think?

~ Michael C. Sahd