Short Peek at new novel Lash

It seemed a no-brainer: the blog topic this Saturday would be Lash, my newest work and first novel coming out in a scant 48 hours from now. Sitting here trying to come up with something witty to say though, instead prompts musings of trepidation. But why, now that years of hard work are finally about to achieve fruition?
Deeper reflection uncovers the odd truth; I didn't write this work with the intent that anyone outside my family would ever read it. I'm about to offer up my most original creation to the world on a carving platter, and some reviewer--if not several--will likely take a deep bloody slice or two.

In light of that, if I wasn't a little nervous, I'd probably qualify as stupid. :) But Lash is well written, exciting, and certainly thought provoking. So with that nervousness also comes rampant excitement, that something I labored so hard on for so long will finally be published.

So here is the prologue, for your reading pleasure!

Lash by Tara Fox Hall

PROLOGUE

“Lash, no, please—”
I slid my well-used survival knife deftly into the mark’s heart, his familiar gasp of surprise instantly gratifying. After a few more jerks, his body went limp in my arms. Withdrawing the knife smoothly, I lay the dead weight down across the stoop of his business. His employees would find it when they arrived for work the next morning.
Only one more thing to do.
Moving the coiled whip at my waist out of the way, I went to one knee to sever his head. The bastard rolled as I reached for him, going to all fours as his skin started rippling. A throaty growl issued from his mouth where fangs were rapidly erupting.
“Who’d have figured you for a goddamned shapeshifter?” I hissed, bracing myself for the lunge that was coming. “You’re a street thug, Ken—”
The black panther leapt, it’s still-shifting clawed hands more fingers than paws. Ken knocked me sprawling, kicking hard with his back feet, the nails shredding my shirt.
I shoved up and right with the knife. The cat let out a howl, then went for my throat.
I dropped the knife, and used both hands to keep those white fangs out of me, as I partly shifted, my own fangs forming fast. Spreading my lips wide, I bit down into Ken’s foreleg. He screamed and thrashed, trying to shake me loose, even as he changed form back to human. I held on tight, pumping the venom in as fast as I could.
Thirty seconds later, Ken went limp as his heart stopped.
Spitting the taste of wereblood out of my mouth, I quickly severed his head, placing it in his lap as my boss had instructed.
“Abraham told you to stop selling drugs in his territory,” I hissed. “That you weren’t going to listen was a given. But who the hell turned you? There’re no werepanthers inside the city limits.”
Ken didn’t answer.
I cleaned my knife blade on the remnants of his torn clothes. Why not? It’d already been amateur night here with me having to resort to my venom. Might as well move it up to total incompetence.
I walked off to my car, consoling myself that probably the cops wouldn’t notice poison residue mixed in with the victim’s blood when they had a headless, naked body to hush up. Even if they did, what I used was a common poison; something readily available at a dozen locations inside the city limits. In any case, the sky was lightening. My vampire boss would turn in for the day any minute now. Before he did, I had to get back and make my report.
***
“Ken’s dead. I left the body like you asked. Someone had turned him panther in the last week—unless you forgot to mention that when you asked me to kill him.”
Abraham shook his head. “I didn’t know. Was that trouble?”
Yeah, he’s naked and headless. “No.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Good. We’ve had enough since the Crash. People all over the country are suffering. Hoover’s made a few speeches outlining some new government plans, but nothing’s come of them yet.”
“New Orleans will survive.” I bared a fang. “At least as long as you and I have anything to say about it.”
“Get some sleep, Lash. I’ll need you to go back at first dark to find out who turned him, and to make sure that my message was heeded. ”
“And if it wasn’t?”
“You know what to do.”
***
I sat in my room later that morning, sipping some single malt. For the past month, I’d been having trouble sleeping. A few shots were usually enough to relax me, but this morning it wasn’t working.
It wasn’t the killing, I was used to that. It wasn’t the failing economy, those fucking human deadbeats peddling drugs, or even the vampires and weres I had to keep in line for Abraham.
My own bad memories were keeping me up.
I hadn’t always been an assassin. I’d been a bright young man poised for a successful future, maybe an exemplary one. I’d been going to get married.
Instead I’d become Lash.
I downed the rest of my shot and got into bed, placing my weapons on the nightstand within reach. Sleepless, I lay there remembering.