Teaser

This is just a teaser for a project that I *hope* will be out next summer:

Noah Newmeyer was terrified. He couldn't see anything. The blindfold obscured his vision. He couldn't speak. The gag in his mouth was soaked with spit which was now running down his chin. The place his kidnappers had brought him to smelled like dust, decay, and something much worse...
They sat him in a chair. They removed the gag from his mouth. That was the worst. That meant he'd been taken somewhere where nobody would hear him. But as long as they didn't remove his blindfold and let him see their faces, he'd still be okay--
The blindfold was yanked off.
He yelped and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to look.
"We're not going to hurt you, open your eyes," a man said. He sounded more tired than sinister.
Newmeyer's heart was thundering, but he did what he was told. The sight that greeted him was more surprising than anything. He expected one lone lunatic to have kidnapped him. Instead, he was surrounded by a dozen men. They were dressed like SWAT. Black boots, dark uniforms, heavy equipment vests, and large guns. His eyes were drawn to the insignia patches that they all wore-- a Jack of Spades with the face having been replaced by a grinning skull.
In the middle of the soldiers, he noted a blonde man with a scar that ran from the corner of his eye, down his cheek. His eyes were too gentle for his features. A woman stood beside him in civilian clothes. A dark swoosh of brown hair hung playfully over one eye. Like the man, she bore a slender scar that ran from the corner of her mouth down to her jaw line. There was also a barrel-chested man with a dark crew cut, an awkwardly rigid posture, and a shit-eating grin.
Newmeyer looked from face to face, his brain a swirling mess of questions. Then he noticed their surroundings. Though it was dark, lit only by flashlights and lanterns that caught the vortex of dust, the endless rows of slot machines were unmistakable. They were broken and smashed. Green felt-lined tables extended past the machines. They were piled with dust and fallen debris. Tables that would never again have cards dealt upon them.
The room was a massive cavern. Newmeyer knew where they were. The abandoned shamble of the Steel Casino.
As it dawned on him, one more person stepped into view. This one he knew; she was impossible to forget. Her dark hair was dyed to a raspberry maroon color and was tucked beneath a cap that bore the same insignia as the men around her. And though she wore torn jeans, her vest, weapons, and equipment matched theirs. She had a matching scar like them too, a gun shot wound tactfully concealed beneath the rose blossom sleeve tattoo that ran from her shoulder to wrist. She stood out with an air of rebelliousness and confidence that could only mean she was their leader.
She smiled at him. With those ice blue eyes, full lips, and apple cheeks, she'd be gorgeous if it wasn't for an expression that was annoyingly playful and filled with amusement.
"You," he said, horrified by the realization.
Then she thrust an object at him. He knew what it was without having to look down. A bible and a vial of holy water. He groaned.
Then the men parted before him. Across from him, another man sat, tied to a chair. He wore a uniform similar to theirs. A guard. One of their own. His eyes were rolling, and he was snarling and snapping at them like a wild animal. Foam rolled from his mouth in drenching sheets.
Noah Newmeyer felt a chill roll through him.
Lieutenant O'Dea Murphy still stood in front of him, grinning like an asshole and holding the bible out to him.
"We need your help," she said cheerfully.