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THE PRESUMPTION IS OUT!

My new Mitch Turner novel The Presumption is available for order! As with the other Mitch Turner novels, it is also available in Kindle Unlimited. You can find it here.

AN UNSYMPATHETIC CLIENT.

Criminal defense attorney Mitch Turner is tempted to turn down the most recent case that walks through his door because the prospective client, Candy Carlisle, sends out all the wrong vibes. He decides to take it, though, because he is concerned about Candy’s children.

The case has issues right from the beginning, and so does Candy.

A MANIPULATIVE CLIENT.

Mitch is not the first attorney on the case. The previous lawyer is only too happy to let him take over. Every time he thinks he knows something about Candy, he learns something new that makes him reassess. The former attorney was afraid of Candy, and Mitch starts to believe those fears are justified.

Candy also swears she didn’t kill her husband while their children slept upstairs, but the physical evidence says otherwise.

AN INNOCENT CLIENT?

The further Mitch digs, the more he dislikes his client, but he also becomes increasingly convinced Candy is innocent.

Proving it is going to be tough.

Is Mitch up for the task? Can he find the actual perpetrator to save Candy’s children from having to see their mother go to prison? Can he put his feelings about Candy to the side in his search for justice?

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Sneak peek

“Ms. Carlisle,” I said, once I had taken a seat across from her behind my desk, “what is it that I can do for you?” The resemblance was remarkable. Barbara’s nose was more petite, Candy’s wider. The hair color was an exact match, as was the style. Candy had a mole just above her lip. There were some subtle differences around the eyes and chin. And some other physical differences as well. But it was like I was talking to my ex-girlfriend.

“I have been charged with murder,” Candy said as if the admission pained her. She sat her purse in the empty chair and clasped her hands in her lap, staring at me like she was trying to figure me out.

“Who?”

“My husband,” Candy said, her voice catching slightly as if she still could not accept it.

There was something behind her eyes as she spoke, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

Grief at his death? Relief he was gone?

I could not tell.

“When did this happen?”

“Four months ago.”

I arched an eyebrow. Most clients contacted me right after their arrest. This meant Candy was already represented and not happy with her attorney.

“You’re just coming to me now?”

“My other attorney is not working out.”

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NEW LEGAL THRILLER COMING SOON: THE PRESUMPTION

Coming soon to Amazon! Check back for details.

Rebel Mage: Chapter 4

4

When Kaor disappeared, Leah felt all eyes go to her. She shivered but it wasn’t because of the cold or the snow. It wasn’t even because of the calculating glances she received from some of the townspeople.

It was something else entirely.

She’d never before doubted Kaor’s devotion to her or his desire to be with her but now she wasn’t so sure.

It seemed the man barely knew her.

Had he really thought she’d abandon him in his hour of need? She’d been forced to play a part; surely, he’d seen that?

The betrayal she’d seen in his eyes made her wonder.

She’d done what had been necessary and had expected him to be smart enough to realize it.

I don’t mind if you help, Leah thought, repeating Kaor’s words to herself. They were like hot coals that fell on her shoulders and slipped down her back. Does he honestly think so little of me? He can’t possibly know the first thing about me.

His words echoed around her mind, making her angry and sad at the same time. They had the effect of calling into question the exact nature of their relationship.

Perhaps he said them to cast doubt away from me, she thought, looking for a reason to explain the misstep. But that didn’t really make sense either, now did it? If anything, it heightened the suspicion of anybody who had already started to wonder if she’d known he was a rebel.

Judging by some of the looks, her guess wasn’t far wrong. Frannie and the merchant beside her whispered while looking Leah’s way. No, Kaor hadn’t done Leah any favors by suggesting she help build the bonfire.

If he’d been smart, he would have reinforced her cover by apologizing, saying something about how he regretted what he was, and had hated lying to her all this time. Something that would have put her above reproach. She’d been forced to dig in when he hadn’t realized what she was doing, going so far as to call more attention to him.

Why hadn’t the cursed fool run sooner?

They’d lost precious time.

Franni nodded back towards an alley and the merchant followed her.

What are you up to? Leah wondered, trying to keep the appropriate expression of horror on her face. She’d never liked Franni, but the feeling was mutual. The woman had always seemed the type to say and do whatever she needed to get what she wanted. Just as Franni disappeared, she favored Leah with a small smile. Something about her eyes made Leah grimace and curl her fist.

Come at me, you old hag, see what I’m capable of.

Ruc’s horn winded again, much closer than it had been originally, and she shuddered. She was glad it wasn’t coming for her but was horrified it called after the man she loved. Even if the fool had so little faith in her. 

Stop it! Leah thought. Kaor’s life is in jeopardy and you’re trying to find meaning where there isn’t any. She wouldn’t have done any better in his situation. She needed to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“You best be getting on too,” Stan Trachur whispered in her ear, his words an echo of her own thoughts. “I don’t like the way some are looking at you.”

It was difficult not to pull back from the man’s breath, but she managed to do it. He was, after all, trying to help her. He wouldn’t have been an ally she would have chosen, but it was good to have somebody who wasn’t looking at her and thinking they could claim a bag of gold by capturing her. Three witnesses were all that was needed to claim she’d been giving aid to a rebel. It was supposed to be more complicated than that, but she’d never heard of somebody who’d been freed when there had been three or more witnesses testify against them.

It was better not to take the chance. Her best option to get out of this alive was to portray confidence, something she felt slipping away at an ever-increasing pace. 

“I’ve nothing to fear,” she said, raising her voice more than necessary. She was just glad it didn’t waver or crack. “I’ve just learned of this, same as you. If any fool tries to claim I was aiding a rebel, they’ll find I’ve got quite the bite for being such a small woman.” She pulled out the dagger she kept strapped to her arm and flashed it against the lantern light before making it disappear. It was a move she’d practiced hundreds of times but never done in public. The sharp blade scraped her arm on reentry. She hoped it hadn’t drawn blood. She’d feel right foolish if it started dripping down her arm. 

The knife trick earned a raised eyebrow from Stan and he raised a hand to squeeze her shoulder. She gritted her teeth and forced a grin. 

It had taken every ounce of resolve to not shove Stan’s hand off her when he’d arrived. Many in East Ridge thought Stan’s wife Jules was the one to watch out for, but Leah had heard stories about Stan that would have raised most people’s neck hair. Her mother had forbidden her from going near the man when she’d been younger.

As Stan stared into her eyes, it occurred to Leah that he was much closer than he’d originally been when this had all started.

He had been whispering and it might have just been concern for her welfare, but could it be something else as well? The way Jules stepped beside him and hooked her arm through his while giving Leah a wary look was all the proof Leah needed to know there was something to the rumors about the man.

If word ever got out on him, he’d be run out of town. 

From what little Leah knew, Jules had a right to be as bitter and acidic as she was. Leah would have been too if her husband had been fonder of other men’s ladies than her. It was no secret Stan tended to dote on women most would describe as pretty. It was also often observed he was not kind to his wife. That might not have been so bad if that’s where all the stories stopped, but that wasn’t the case.

Stan’s fingers curled around Leah’s shoulder again and it took every bit of her willpower to keep from cringing. Where had the man’s hands been last? She avoided shuddering as she imagined several possibilities before she could stop herself.

It was better she didn’t speculate.

She looked around, careful to not let anybody see her check the spot where Kaor had disappeared. She didn’t think Kaor would have stopped once he was out of view, but she wanted to make sure he was gone. Stress could do strange things to a person. By all appearances, Kaor appeared to have handled it well enough—if only the fool would have run immediately—but she hated the thought of him becoming paralyzed with fear and not making it far.

When Kaor had finally run, she’d forced her legs to not move, though she wanted nothing more than to chase after him. Every instinct screamed at her to run too. Whether it was more for her desire to be with him or throttle him or escape the suspicious looks of the mob, she couldn’t be sure. When he’d disappeared, a little voice in the back of her head had said it was the last she’d ever see him. She’d argued with it but feared it would be the case.

Kaor might have foolishly put her in this position, but that wasn’t an excuse for her to act on instinct. Quite the contrary, now was the time to avoid any possible misstep. There were a lot of eyes on her, searching for the slightest excuse to take her captive and claim she’d given him aid. Kaor had hunters, hounds, lucent wolves, and a mage, all clamoring for his head.

They were likely to get it too.

It galled her to think the last thing he might do before he died was curse her name because he’d refused to listen to good sense and leave months ago.

Well, if he doesn’t survive this, perhaps there’s a place for me in the traveling troops, she thought bitterly. She’d been positive Kaor had seen right through her mask, but he’d actually looked hurt. I’m not a bad actor.    

“What did you say to her?” Jules demanded of Stan, her voice quiet but higher than normal. “Tell me what you said!” Jules stared at Leah with cold eyes, daring Leah to touch her man.

Like I’d want the creeper, Leah thought and almost said aloud. She refrained from doing so because, like it or not, Stan had been looking out for her. With the two split in opinion, she liked her chances a little better.

Leah’s mom believed Jules knew of Stan’s behavior but just pretended like she didn’t. If that were true, didn’t that make her a silent accomplice to everything Stan had done? 

“Nothing dear.” Stan shook his head and muttered something inaudible. “Nothing at all.” Stan let up on Leah’s shoulder but not before giving it a small squeeze that made her want to retch. There had been a promise to the touch; she was certain she hadn’t imagined it.

“It didn’t look like nothing!” Jules turned to Leah. “You knew about Kaor, didn’t you? I’ve seen the way the two of you walk around town, holding hands while deep in conversation. There’s no way you didn’t. Men are terrible with secrets and even worse liars.” She glared at Stan.

Leah frowned but kept her voice still. “Perhaps some men are, same as some women, but it’s hardly fair to judge all based on your limited experience.” She sighed and looked down. “Truth is, I knew he was keeping something from me. I thought it might have been the theft of Ally’s chicks, never anything like this.” She let her anger show. “To think he was hiding this from me.”   

How could the fool man have so little faith in me? Leah wondered again, wishing Kaor was standing in front of her so she could wrap her hands around his throat. We’ve been together six months. I’ve come close to professing love and he’s been close as well. How can he think I’d abandon him?

“Some women are indeed bad liars,” Jules said. “Perhaps, Stan, you can make up for your folly now. We just need another witness.”

“Oh, leave off, woman!” Stan kept his voice low and looked around. “Come off it! No amount of money is worth blood on our hands.”

“You owe me. For… everything.”

“Don’t you dare—”

Leah stepped forward and bent down so she was in Jules’s face, keeping her voice low so that only the two of them could hear. It was time to make a threat strong enough that Jules would think twice. “Back off. You try anything and I’ll make sure word of Stan gets to the right ears. Too many people have turned a blind eye and let the guilt sour in their gut to not step forward when it comes to light.”

“I won’t be held responsible for his crimes!” Jules spat.

“Oh. So you know. That will earn you a lot of sympathy from the mayor and his council, I imagine.”

“Careful, girl.” Stan’s eyes were cold as he leaned in. “I’m trying to help.”

Jules paled as Ruc’s horn sounded, it was much closer than it had been before and drew all their attention. Leah wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Kaor had run. She would have expected Ruc to be in a hurry, anxious to get after his quarry. Instead, Ruc strolled up, calm as the dead of night, his dogs milling around him like bees. They snapped at one another, anxious for the chase. The crowd parted around them, giving them a wide berth.

Scut Grelmer hadn’t moved since Kaor had conjured the lightning bolt and stolen his bow. Leah had been so wrapped up in everything else she hadn’t thought about the boy. He rubbed his eyes, large tears rolling down his face as he blinked and tried to look around.

The poor boy, he never should have antagonized a rebel. He should have known better. Kaor will feel guilty about him losing his vision. 

One of the dogs brushed against Scut, who lurched away. The dog snapped at the sudden movement and bit his leg. Scut screamed as he toppled over. The dog was on top of him before anybody could move. Scut froze, his cry dying on his lips. 

“Wrong quarry, dog.” Ruc’s voice had a jovial edge to it and if he felt any sympathy for Scut, it didn’t show on his face. “Watch out, boy, he doesn’t take kindly to fast movements. I’ve trained him to bite first and wait for me to shoot second.”

“Ruc.” Stan’s voice was flat and tired. “Call the dog off. He was blinded by the rebel.”

Ruc licked his lips, a smile forming on his face. “A fighter,” he said softly. He waved his hand and the dog backed off. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had one of those. It will be good to have a challenge for a change.

Scut grabbed his leg and sat up, his eyes focusing clearly on the dog while he blinked. Leah felt a swell of relief as Scut backed away, grabbing his leg and whimpering.

Ruc bent to look at the boy. “We’ll get him. You won’t have suffered in vain. I’ll make him pay. Would you like that?”

The boy hesitated. He knew Ruc’s reputation. It wasn’t wise to provoke the man. He nodded as Ruc straightened.  

“Well, who’s the lucky rebel this time?” Ruc’s smile made Leah’s stomach do flips and her hands clenched into fists. It took effort, but she was able to uncurl them.

Ruc’s lips were cracked and bleeding. How could he live like that?

Light’s above! Leah thought. I hope it’s his blood.

Some said Ruc liked his meat raw, but she’d never believed it. She was beginning to rethink that. There were some in East Ridge who claimed to like Ruc, but Leah had always suspected they’d only said such things because they hoped Ruc might show them mercy if they turned out to be a rebel.

Saying such things did them no favors. If anything, Ruc tended to keep an eye on those more than most. 

Ruc’s double swords formed an awkward cross on his back. Despite being full-sized, they looked small against his massive form. He had a long spear, and Leah lost count of the daggers he had hanging from various spots about his person. 

His large fur coat had the skin of several different animals and probably hid plenty of other weapons as well. His hair went every which way and was starting to turn gray, though it was difficult to determine for certain with all the grease. If the man ever took a bath, she’d never been able to tell. He’d smelled for as long as she’d known him.

Ruc wasn’t self-conscious about it, sometimes joking with others about his stench. Any that heard the frivolity were careful to study Ruc before they reacted, never quite sure if it was some sort of setup.

Leah’s earliest memory of Ruc was of him whistling as he walked down the road with the body of a young man thrown over his shoulder in much the same way most men might carry a small deer, turkey, or boar. Even as a little child, she’d known there was something wrong with the man. People didn’t behave that way.

Leah’s dad had picked her up suddenly, hugging her to his chest and obscuring her view of the ghastly scene. He’d tensed as if he were going to speak to Ruc, but many seconds passed before he muttered something under his breath that Leah hadn’t been able to understand. Ruc turned the corner without her father confronting him.

Ruc had only had the one dog back then—Scar—and that dog led the way today. The other hounds kept a wary eye on Scar, careful to keep their distance.

She’d never quite gotten over her fear of Scar, but at least she didn’t feel the need to hide from the animal in the way she had when she’d been young. 

“It’s Lidy’s kid,” Stan said, breaking into Leah’s thoughts. “Kaor.” Despite Stan’s words to Kaor earlier and his defense of Leah afterward, there wasn’t the slightest indication on either his face or in his tone to betray his apparent mixed feelings.

Ruc rubbed his bearded chin and stared at Leah, crumbs falling from it as he did. A small piece of food that looked like fried chicken was knocked loose as well. One of the dogs stopped to lap it up before it continued to circle around him, growling as it did.

Ruc’s eyes bored into Leah. He knew about them. Cursed night, anybody in town would have known about them if all they did was keep their eyes open. 

“Did anybody help him?” Ruc asked, his wicked smile broadening.

Stan shook his head. “It’s just the boy. Don’t try to wrap up another innocent person into all this.” He took Jules by the arm and placed a hand on her back. She hadn’t looked ready to say anything but threw Stan a resentful look.

Ruc growled, his smile turning to bared teeth. “The girl was always with him.”

Leah sniffed, outraged. “If you have an accusation, make it straight and be done with it! I wouldn’t lift a finger to help a rebel. Kaor is not the man I thought he was.”

Ruc chuckled, it sounded hollow in his chest. “Seems as close as you two were, you’d have known about this.” He licked his cracked lips. “There’s good money in traitors.”   

Leah stepped forward, fueling her rage with her hurt. “He lied to me but have it your way.” She pulled open her coat. “Here, run me through the heart.” She stepped forward, confronting the big man. “Take my blood. It is freely offered and will condemn you. Make it a fine end to a fine cursed day.”

Ruc stepped back as she took another forward. It felt good to make the monster of a man do her bidding, if only for a heartbeat.

“Well, isn’t this rich,” Ruc said, chuckling. “Leah Canes. I won’t come for you.” He paused. “Today.” Without another word, he plodded off in the direction Kaor had gone, his dark chuckle audible long after he was gone from view.

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Rebel Mage: Chapter 3

3

The horn winded again. Jules said something, but even though Kaor hadn’t heard her, he knew what it had been. He would have known even if he hadn’t seen the formation of her lips. 

Ruc.

The hunter Beryl Ruc was several blocks away and coming fast. Ruc had brought in almost every rebel mage. Most of the time, he did it without help from the Emperor’s mages. Sometimes, he got the rebels before the mage even appeared at the gong.

Kaor shuddered at an early memory from his youth and tried to shake the thought but could not. There was something evil about seeing a teenage boy strung up as if he were a deer.

A bowstring twanged and an arrow cut through the air, the wind of its passing brushed against Kaor’s jacket. It stuck into the wall of the Kandler store, quivering next to Bobb Kandler.

Kaor faced his attacker. Every instinct told him to run, but like the fool he was, he stood his ground. Leah looked ready to faint.

Didn’t think I would be this stubborn?

The arrow had come from Scut Grelmer. The boy was sixteen, but he held a full-sized bow. Scut’s bow hand was unsteady even as the other was already reaching for another arrow from the quiver on his back. At three years younger than Kaor, Scut was taller and brawnier. Once the boy reached full height and weight, he was going to be a monster. Scut normally had Raon, his younger brother in tow, but the lad was nowhere to be seen.

Kaor suspected it was Raon who had alerted the town guard. It was they who should have rung the gong to summon a mage from Lannersburg. Only it had kept ringing, making Kaor think Raon had done it himself.

Kaor called the light as he held the knife ready to strike. His light source was a nearby lantern, which hung from the wall of the Kandler home. The lantern dimmed, though the flame remained the same size. Several in the crowd gasped in response.

His perspective shifted, and something clicked.

He hadn’t called the light that wouldn’t go away. It was still there, appearing to combine with what he’d just called, yet distinct somehow, if not to his eyes, then to his mind.

It had pooled around his hands of its own accord. He focused on the other light, calling it, and felt the power join what he’d just summoned.

He thought back to just after the first peal of the gong, when he’d noticed the light gathered around his hands. His perspective had been normal. Whatever had happened, it hadn’t been his fault.

Like I can explain that to any of them. He glanced at Leah and looked away regretfully.

 “What are you doing, you fool?” Bobb yelled at Scut. “My boy was standing there not ten seconds ago. Put that thing away and leave it to Ruc.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Scut managed to get out. He looked embarrassed, but that didn’t stop him from notching the arrow.

Kaor bit his lower lip and concentrated. Scut paled when Kaor focused on the boy.

It would have been hard for Kaor to explain how he did the things he did. Of course, nobody had ever asked, so he’d never been faced with the problem. Leah hadn’t ever wondered, choosing instead to pretend that facet of him didn’t exist.

No one ever asked rebels questions. They just killed them as soon as they appeared and summoned a mage.

Nevermind the fact that the only difference between a rebel and a mage was where they were born. A fact that had bothered Kaor, even before he’d learned he too could call the light.

It had happened naturally the first time Kaor had summoned the light, like the coming of the sun at dawn. The world had shifted and it was like he was looking at things from outside himself. And that wasn’t quite right either, because it wasn’t so much as seeing as it was sensing or feeling. It was as if the light he held in his hands gave him the ability to know more and shift his perspective to outside his own body. 

Kaor could sense Scut’s heart beating as fast as a drum on Faller Night. It was a match for his own. The littlest bead of sweat dripping down Scut’s cheek did not escape Kaor’s notice. It was all there, plotted out in his mind as if on a map.

Scut wasn’t to blame for his actions, but it was difficult for Kaor not to throw the full force of his power at the boy.

Instead, Kaor made a small bolt of lightning appear in front of Scut, cutting into the arrow Scut released at the same moment. The crack of the lightning was sharp, making those around him wince as pieces of arrow were thrown to the side. Half of the shaft whacked Bobb Kandler in the head. The other half skid to a halt on the snowy road.

“Come here, you bleeding idiot!” Bobb shook his fist as he jumped down from his porch, headed in Scut’s direction.

The afterimage from the lightning bolt muddied Kaor’s vision, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from dashing towards Scut ahead of Bobb. The poor boy cried, his hands touching his face, rubbing his eyes with vigor.

“I can’t see! I can’t see!”

“Sorry,” Kaor muttered as he ripped the bow out of the boy’s hands and the quiver from off the boy’s back.

Thank the lights above I didn’t kill you.

The horn sounded as Kaor sprinted down the street. It was much closer than before. The townspeople were too shocked to stop him. It took everything he had to not look back at Leah, but Kaor willed himself forward and increased his speed.

She pointed me out. Never forget that. It was the logical thing to do, but it was still a betrayal.

He disappeared between two homes and ran down a trail that led to the woods.  

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Rebel Mage: Chapter 2

2

The last light of day disappeared while Kaor tried to understand Leah’s actions. It was one thing to pretend to be shocked, quite another to draw more attention to him.

All thought of running evaporated, like a boiling pot going dry. His hands curled into fists, and he could feel his face turn red. He was afraid to speak, afraid to show the emotion that filled him like a cauldron of fire.

How could she do this to him, after they had shared so much?

Voices came from all around as the empty street filled with people.

You have to run, said a little voice in the back of his mind. The words bounced around his skull but did not penetrate his conscious thought process or even cut through his anger. He had never thought Leah would be capable of something like this. He had imagined being discovered several times, and he’d always imagined her agreeing to come with him.

He knew if they left together, they could find their way in the wide world. A feeling he couldn’t explain told him that leaving alone would be certain death. He knew it in his gut.

“Don’t do th—”

“It’s him!” Leah’s voice cut him off but was drowned out by the ringing gong. “He’s right here. Lights above, save us all! I can’t believe you lied to me! I trusted you.”

Kaor knew he needed to run, but he couldn’t make his feet move. In less than half a second, his life had been turned upside down, going from a pleasant evening to a nightmare.

You bleeding fool, he thought. What can you expect her to do when the law calls for the heads of those who aid rebel mages?

She had warned him to go. He should have disappeared months ago. Could he blame her for saving her own skin?

Even as Kaor despised her and was angry with her, he realized he might have done the same thing in her shoes.

Lights above, he had done similar. He pushed away his memory of the night Mira had died.

If even one of the other East Ridge villagers accused her, Leah would be hard-pressed to make a case. She needed to mitigate the fact she’d been holding hands with a man whose hands had glowedwith the light.

The gong sounded yet again, bringing more people to the doors of their homes.

“It’s that Kaor boy,” said the merchant, his eyes big with possibility but not taking them from Kaor’s knife. Kaor was surprised the man knew his name. Kaor didn’t know his.

“I always knew he was trouble,” Franni Faol said as she joined the merchant. “Didn’t I suspect he might be a rebel? I told you just last week, didn’t I?”

“You armed, Franni?” the merchant asked. “We could split the Emperor’s Gift. That girl can’t capture him alone.” He glared at Leah. “Besides, she was aiding him, wasn’t she?”

“That’s how it looked to me.”

Leah bristled at the insinuation but kept quiet.

“Can’t they see this is insane?” Kaor muttered. “The whole thing is madness.” He could stop them dead in their tracks if he wanted. His hands glowed with an ever-increasing amount of light. He had let go of it, but it kept gathering. 

The merchant brandished his knife, as did others behind him, in an apparent effort to scare Kaor. It didn’t work. Now that he was revealed, he had more options at his disposal. The thought of using them made him sad. These were men and women Kaor knew, people he’d known since he was a boy.

With a final look at Leah, he turned to run towards the woods and found the way blocked by Stanner Trachur and others who stood behind him. Jules, Stanner’s wife, pushed to the front of the group.

“Drop the knife, boy,” she said.  

“Out of my way.” Kaor brought up his knife but didn’t strike. He knew the moment he did, the mob would take him down. He’d seen it happen.

The gong rang out again. 

Would the thing stop ringing? It sounded like a young boy had gotten hold of the mallet and didn’t know that once was all it took.

How many times had Kaor heard that sound over the years? How often had it haunted his recent dreams?

And now it called for him.

Stanner shielded his eyes with a hand as he stared into Kaor’s. He was well-liked and carried an aura of authority that was unique to him as the former mayor of East Ridge. 

“Step back from him, Leah,” Stanner said, putting a hand on Leah’s shoulder. Leah’s frown was brief. Despite the discomfort on her face, she didn’t recoil from Stanner’s touch, even though she rarely let other people touch her. She went with his hand as he pushed her back. “There’s no telling what he might do.”

“Use your dagger,” Jules said, her eyes gleaming with the possibility of claiming the Emperor’s Gift. “Do it quick before someone else does.”

“Out of the way or I’ll cut you!” Kaor made a warning slash, his knife held in front of him in a threatening fashion. He’d always liked Stanner, but he wasn’t about to let the old man take him.

Stanner looked from his wife to Kaor. His hand reached for the hilt of his knife, but he didn’t pull it out. His mouth was a thin line, his upper lip curled, making Kaor think he was disgusted, but there was something more as well. It wasn’t fear.

Could it have been anger?

What did Stanner have to be angry about? It was Kaor whose life was in danger. 

“You’ve nothing to fear from me,” Stanner’s voice was quiet, but each word was said with careful enunciation, “but you can’t fight everybody.”

Kaor didn’t move as his brain slowly processed the words. It was hard to think with the ever-growing circle of people staring and pointing.

“Let me through and nobody gets hurt.” The light on Kaor’s hands and arms was becoming blindingly bright.

“We’ll let you through if you drop the knife. Do we have a deal?” Stanner’s voice had an edge even though it had not increased in volume. He hadn’t yet taken out his own blade, but he was looking like he might. He could have been keeping his hand there to prevent Jules from taking it or he might have wanted it handy in case Kaor attacked. Jules’s eyes gleamed in a way that made Kaor want to lash out. “Drop it and go, or…”

Stanner left the thought unfinished. 

“It is your duty, Stan,” Jules growled. “For Multo’s sake, the boy’s dead anyway. Might as well be us that gets the money.”

Stanner didn’t respond but made a shooing motion with the hand that wasn’t holding down the dagger.

Kaor struggled for words as he looked at Leah, but they wouldn’t come. Every second he waited was one less he’d have to get away.

I should have run when I had the chance. Kaor shook his head and glanced at Leah. Her face was unreadable.

He snorted. Perhaps he’d never known her at all.

“Go boy,” Stanner said, apparently deciding that Kaor wasn’t going to leave his dagger, “before something happens.”

“I don’t mind if you help gather the wood,” Kaor said to Leah, as he took a step forward. If he was hoping to elicit some sign of guilt from her, it didn’t work.

“Don’t tell me what to do, you cursed fool.” Leah’s voice was calmer than before, but her tone was unmistakable. It said it was his own fault.

And wasn’t that the truth?

He had thought he could avoid detection. He had believed he might be different. That he could live among them and hide what he was.

But the light called to him. Always. It wanted to be used. It demanded to be used. Even while doing such a small thing as imbuing a little life into a wilted rose, it had taken over and done things he hadn’t intended, calling more light than necessary and making him hold onto it without realizing it.

It was Kaor’s fault. He knew this but still wished it could have been another way. 

Kaor glanced at the growing crowd, it seemed as if everybody on the street had turned out while he had hesitated, though less than a minute or two had passed. 

Bobb Kandler stood on the porch of his store, hands on his hips, his mouth tight, and his eyes narrow as he stared at Kaor’s hands. His young son Gregor pushed in front of him and was about to go down the stairs and into the street when Bobb yanked an arm, said something Kaor didn’t hear, and shoved the lad out of sight.

“Run, you fool,” Stanner muttered, “you’re putting us all in danger the longer you stay.”

A horn sounded, piercing the evening and causing everybody to shift.

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Rebel Mage: Chapter 1

1

The gong rang out, crashing through the cold evening air as if it were the metal hand of a god calling for its human sacrifice. Even though it stood a block away at the center of the town square, the sound struck Kaor Hund as if somebody had punched him in the gut, knocking the air out of his lungs. It reverberated through his head, down his back, and into his spine, causing his feet and other extremities to tingle with nervous energy.

He was hit with an even worse shock when he saw that his hands glowed.

Didn’t I let go of the light? Kaor asked himself, shaking his free hand as if to get rid of it, which, of course, didn’t do any good. I only called it for a moment. Surely, I let it go? I didn’t even call much. It shouldn’t have been noticeable. He tore through his memory, but it was already foggy, so focused he had been on Leah Canes.

How many kinds a fool am I?

Beside him, Leah had a similar reaction when the brassy note slammed through what had been a calm evening. She turned to Kaor, wide-eyed and mouth moving without words. The setting sun peeked out of the gray winter clouds, through the falling snow, and highlighted her dark hair as her hand crushed his.

Her eyes narrowed at the sight of his luminescent fingers interlocked with hers.

“What have you done?” Leah asked in a hoarse whisper, releasing his hand and pressing the flower back into his. “I told you not to mess with the flower. You’ve killed us both.” Her eyes grew wide and she took a step away from him, her hand going to her mouth in an exaggerated gesture.

Kaor recognized she was acting surprised for the benefit of anybody watching.

Multo’s mother. He would never hear the end of this.

He swallowed.

No, that wasn’t true. They would never again have a private conversation.

He had to run. It was the only choice he had.

No! Kaor thought, refusing to just leave behind all he knew. He had too much invested in Leah to flee without trying to convince her to come with him.

“We don’t know this is about me,” Kaor whispered, “it could be for somebody else.”

“Nobody is going to miss your hands,” Leah hissed quietly, keeping her own hands to her face to cover her lips. She took another step back. Were those tears trickling down her cheeks? Or melting snow? She was a much better actor than he’d given her credit for if they were real. “Let go of the light, now! Run!”

Kaor licked his lips while glancing around, hoping nobody but Leah had noticed his mistake. The street had been empty moments before, but the gong always drew curious eyes.

Eyes that now looked at him.

Even though it was futile, Kaor thrust both hands into his jacket pockets, crushing the flower as he did, but that didn’t help. The light emanated from his hands and through the threadbare fabric.

Why can’t I let go? Kaor wondered. He couldn’t even feel the light. He knew he should have worn his winter coat.

A man cried out, drawing Kaor’s eyes ahead of them.

“He’s over there!” The man pointed a finger in Kaor’s direction. “Right there!” He pulled out a knife and held it out as if afraid Kaor would attack.

“No, this is wrong,” Kaor muttered. He pulled out his own much larger knife, his cursed hand still glowing. Try as he might, he could not release the light. It had a mind of its own.

The thick blade gave him cold comfort, but it was better than nothing. Tommer had made it for a customer who hadn’t been able to pay. Kaor had saved for a summer to buy the blade from the blacksmith. It was nearly a foot and a half long—hardly a sword—but the hefty weight was better than nothing, especially with the mob that was forming. “No, no, no! There has to be a way out of this.” He looked at the man, who he recognized now as a traveling merchant. “I don’t have control over this. This isn’t me.”

The man stepped back at the sight of Kaor’s knife but made no other move to retreat. Indeed, as more joined him on the street, the man had less to fear.

“Drop your knife. It will go better for you.”

East Ridge was Kaor’s home. He didn’t want to run. He wanted to fight. He wanted to stay. It was unfair he should be killed because he could wield the light like a mage.

Why was that a reason to kill him?

“I’m sorry,” Leah whispered. It was just audible, and her lips barely moved. “I am so sorry. You know what I have to do.”

“Come with me!” Kaor knew her answer but couldn’t help asking. “We’ll go together.”

“Not like this. No.” She took a step back.

He looked into her eyes, wondering what he’d do if the situation were reversed. He’d run with her, wouldn’t he?

Until Ruc stuck a spear in my back, he thought.   

Leah screamed and pointed a finger at Kaor.

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Rebel Mage: Prologue

Prologue

The rain came at dawn, covering the valley in a shroud of mist and running water. It came in torrents, as if waterfalls had formed in the sky, intent on drowning the valley, but the sky was almost empty. The only clouds were white.

The wind was still.

Streams became raging rivers. Rivers grew fast and violent. Floods that started as trickles grew to a dull roar. A small lake in the valley was lost in competing floods, old decaying wooden structures surrounding it were erased from existence.

The stone city—in truth, the forgotten stone city—that stood on a hill to the side of the lake was beginning to flood before the end of an hour. By the time the sun had reached its zenith, stone statues that had stood for millennia were submerged. An amphitheater that could hold upwards of ten thousand people was filled, became a lake, and then was lost in the flood.

Yet, the rain still came.

Shortly after noon, an older man hunched with age shuffled onto what had been a balcony of the temple and found water lapping just below where he stood. It had formerly been seven stories above the ground. The man’s burnished armor pinged with the force of the rain. Water leaked through his helmet and into his eyes, forcing him to blink it back as it trickled down his worn, sun-spotted skin.

His eyes widened when he looked up.

Where is the storm? Rorel Understok wondered as he placed his hands on the stone railing.

The temple grounds were not visible, except for the langiffer pines which stretched high above where Rorel stood. The walls that had surrounded the temple were submerged. In all the centuries he’d lived in Cerpatar, he’d never seen its equal. The rain still fell.

Yet there was no storm.

A thousand years ago or so, the flood would have been a disaster, but as Cerpatar was abandoned by all but Rorel and his captives, he wasn’t much concerned.

The floodwater—which had previously only been disturbed by the rain—now had waves running across the top.

Yet there was no wind.

This was no mere change in the weather. He’d have noticed before today. Rorel squinted, trying to see if there were other such wave patterns further out on the water. If there were, there was too much tumult for him to see.

Despite the increasing water level, he didn’t move. He gripped the railing and enjoyed the rain. He’d been alone so many years he welcomed the touch of the raindrops. It felt good to feel something that had a semblance of life against his body.

When the waters lapped against his knees, he decided it was time to move to a higher level. The rain would stop eventually. The tower had many more stories; he was not in danger. The flood may last for a time, but it would recede. Even with his gardens below flooded, he had enough planted throughout the upper balconies of the temple that he could wait it out.

Rorel held the railing as he followed it around the circular balcony, not trusting his frail strength alone to stand against the water that swirled around him. He didn’t notice the lone figure at the balcony door until he was almost on top of him.

His lips moved but it took several moments for his voice to work. The figure’s eyes bored into him. 

“Saar,” Rorel said, at last, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. He hadn’t remembered it sounding so raspy. It was no louder than a whisper and drew a smirk to Saar’s face.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were still here, old man.” Saar’s voice was as Rorel remembered, strong and deep. The man, despite his short size, could bellow when he had a mind. If the years had taken a toll on Saar, Rorel was unable to tell.

Even with Rorel’s sagging shoulders, he still stood a head taller than Saar. It was part of what had made people underestimate the evil man.

Who am I fooling? Rorel wondered. He would have done the things he’d done regardless of his size.

What Saar lacked in height, he made up for in width and muscle. His forearms were thicker than Rorel’s thighs, reminding Rorel of a log. His tiny eyes were still sunk into his oversized skull. The tattooed lines that ran from the top of his shaved head and down his face almost seemed to glow. 

The man stood with the same straight-backed posture and smug smile.

The same one I see in my nightmares, Rorel thought. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized he should be alarmed. Panicked, even. But he couldn’t summon the energy to stress.   

“This isn’t possible,” Rorel said. “You shouldn’t—”

“If it wasn’t,” Saar said dryly while shaking his head, the tattooed lines making it look as if he had a spider affixed to his face, “why’d you spend a millennium drinking the juice off the kippy pear to keep an eye on me and mine?

“No, what you really mean to say is that you planned poorly. Your plans didn’t take into account the ravages of time nor their impact on you.” He held up his hands and examined them. “More than a thousand years and I haven’t aged a day, thanks to your prison. But you, old man, lack the strength to stop me. I doubt you can still summon the light.”

Saar laughed. It wasn’t the maniacal laugh that had made the world bow in fear; no, it was more subdued and mellow. The menace that had been obvious before he’d been placed in the residio vault was no longer there.

That’s not right, Rorel thought when he looked into Saar’s eyes. It’s still there, as much as it ever was. It’s just deeper now. Internalized. The rain pounded down even harder, forcing Rorel to squint as he regarded Saar.

The two figures stood, oblivious to the passing of time. It could have been an hour; it could have been more. 

Time had lost much of its meaning to Rorel.

It dawned on Rorel that something else was different about Saar.

He had learned patience.

And I was the fool who helped him learn it, Rorel thought with a shudder of horror. Saar had never been able to wait. It was that one weakness that had been his undoing. The one thing Rorel had always been able to count on to betray Saar.

“How?” Rorel stammered. “At least tell me how you escaped.”

Saar’s laugh changed. It was subtle, Rorel’s aged senses almost missed it. There was a tinge of bitterness. That wasn’t unexpected, considering he’d been trapped for so long. But it was surprising. He almost seemed to regard Rorel with a sense of respect.

Even gratitude.

“I owe you, old man. All my enemies are long gone.” Saar shook his head. “But I don’t owe you enough to tell you the truth.” He thrust his arms up into the rain, the sun illuminating him like a god, and his arms glowed. “I’ll let you live out your life, such as it is. If you find the will to consume another, come find me.” He smiled as he lifted off the ground.

“I’ll be back for the rest. Keep an eye on them.”

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A New Novel: Rebel Mage

Announcing the release of a new fantasy novel by Dan Decker: Rebel Mage.

MAGIC IS OUTLAWED FOR ALL BUT THE NOBILITY.

Kaor Hund discovers he can wield magic like a mage. His newfound power puts his life at risk. Unable to control the power and betrayed by the girl he loves, he is hunted because of his low birth and forced to flee.

KAOR VOWS TO FIGHT HIS FATE.

While the frightening and sinister Beryl Ruc relentlessly hunts him, Kaor finds unlikely help from an apparent nobleman who promises to deliver him from those who pursue him, but there’s a catch.

AN UNEXPECTED OFFER OF A NEW LIFE.

The nobleman makes an offer in exchange for the promised help. Kaor is certain there is more than meets the eye, but what other choice does he have?

He faces certain death if he doesn’t.

Can Kaor find another way to survive? Will he live through the night?

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New Mitch turner short story: the plot

A STRANGE WOMAN ASKS TO SIT DOWN…

Criminal defense attorney Mitch Turner has just sat down to dinner at a fine restaurant after a long day in court when a beautiful woman approaches and asks to join him. Thinking she is interested in a date, he agrees.

He quickly learns she has approached for free legal advice.

He tries to put her off by suggesting she call his office for an appointment, but she is adamant that she requires immediate legal help. Just when Mitch Turner thinks he has a handle on what she needs, he realizes he has unwillingly stumbled into a thorny situation with potential problems that could haunt him throughout his career.

Mitch must think fast to resolve the situation. How will he do it?

If you like legal thrillers, the short story is for you. Mitch Turner is a fast-talking lawyer who looks at the world differently than most and takes risks where others might not. Fans of John Grisham and Scott Turow will enjoy this story. Pick up your copy today!

Sneak Peek:

“I’m about to be in a bit of legal trouble.” A long pause. “Potentially.”

“You’re planning to commit a crime,” I said flatly.

“I just want advice on my situation,” she said, dodging my question.

My eyebrows rose. I was no stranger to having people hit me up for free legal advice, but it had never before happened in quite this fashion.

“I do offer a free initial consultation. How about you swing by my office on Monday so we can talk?”

“No.” Her voice was stern, and she spoke with such heat that I wondered if she was about to lose her temper. The moment passed, and she spoke in a subdued tone. “I need your advice tonight.”

I studied the woman, trying to piece together what I already knew about her. She did not appear crazy, but her words made little sense. If something did not make sense, there was usually something I was not seeing. It was possible she was off her rocker; but more likely, there was a logical explanation for her behavior.

But I was tired. It had been a long day. I could face a situation like this on Monday morning. Not last thing Friday night.

I shrugged apologetically. “I’m on my off hours.” I dropped my business card on the table in front of her. “Call my office Monday morning. We’ll get something set up.”

“You don’t understand.” She leaned in. “It can’t wait. I’m planning to kill somebody tonight.”

Max Damage: Chapter 4

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It’s good to see you, Nancy,” Jason said calmly to Ron Nansen as the two men entered. “How long has it been? Seven years?”

The first pointed his rifle at Jason. “You’ll shut your mouth if you know what’s good for you.”

“Ask Nancy over there. I’ve never been one to sit quietly. I like to hear myself talk, helps me think.”

“Please don’t hurt me.” Smith’s voice was weak. Jason knew the second Smith spoke that he had just signed his death certificate. There had been a chance they would only focus on Jason, ignoring him in the smoke while he was curled up on the floor of the bus. “I didn’t see nothing. I didn’t hear nothing.”

Nansen didn’t reply. He lowered his rifle and fired.

Jason inwardly cringed but made no visible expression.

“Red Nancy. Isn’t that what the others called you behind your back? I see you haven’t decreased your wanton desire for blood. It was always one thing I could count on with you, finding a trail of bodies in your wake.”

Nansen laughed. “I thought you going to prison while Taft and I walked free was one of the best things that ever happened. Then Taft came to me with an idea, and I realized it was genius. Absolutely diabolical. It was the perfect revenge on you for forcing us into hiding.”

It wasn’t enough that I’ve been rotting in prison? Jason thought.

“So Taft is here, but he sent you in to do the dirty work?”

“Revenge sometimes has to be messy. Taft knew you wouldn’t be released on parole.”

“How is old Laffy Taffy doing anyway? I heard he lost a hand.” Jason smiled at Nansen. There had been a positive DNA match on Taft, which would have been hard to fake. Jason had asked his attorney to look into it. He’d learned that they’d found Taft’s hand but little else of the man. “How did that happen again?”

“If he wouldn’t have lost his hand, I think he might have forgotten about you. The trouble is that you left him with a living reminder of your betrayal. He sees it every day.”

“Get it over with. I haven’t got all day.”

“You think we’re here to kill you?” Nansen laughed, slapping his thigh. “I was looking forward to telling you this part myself, but Taft decided he wanted to do it.”

Nansen pulled out his phone, did something on it, and a few moments later was talking to Taft on speakerphone.

“I found him. Just like you said.”

“Everything okay?” Taft’s voice made Jason clinch his hands into fists. When he realized what he was doing, he slowly loosened his hold and made his face as placid as possible. His mind spun with possibilities as he tried to figure out what was going on. Taft was creative in his schemes.

When Jason had identified Nansen, he had just assumed they had come to kill him. Whatever Taft had planned for Jason, he could handle it without a problem. Torture? No issue. Death? That was just fine.

It’s preferable to spending the best years of my life rotting in prison.

“Without a hitch,” Nansen said.

“All right. I got to do this. I got to talk to him. Let me see him.” Taft’s voice seemed to quiver with excitement.

Surprise showed on Jason’s face but only for a moment. He quickly wiped it off. He had heard about this.

Apparently, phones could now easily do video conversations, something that had been clunky when he had been put away.

Nansen spun the phone, and Jason found himself face-to-face with Taft.

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