Inescapable Darkness

Editions:Kindle: $4.99

The war is over.

The daevor Winx has returned to her job and her passion as a stripper. She's hiding out with her beloved bandit, Keaton. She wants nothing to do with fighting anymore.

Unfortunately, hellkin have appeared, and her fight has only just begun.

Published: 12/31/2015
Publisher: Red Iris Books

The dim light in the hall softly illuminated the inky pools slipping to the floor in slow motion. Its stickiness clung to the knife, coating the hands that clasped it. The weapon burrowed deeper, messier, making a veritable home of the body it invaded, forcing its way into a makeshift sheath of mottled skin.

His hands are glowing blue.

Urgency hastened the knife wielder. If the Lixyn guard managed to heal himself, it would mean an alarm. And the end of tonight’s progress. The assassin did not relish the idea of ruined plans . Defeat was not an option. It had to be tonight.


Redoubling efforts, the assassin yanked the knife free and kicked the guard to the ground. The Lixyn was barely able to utter a sound as he found himself forced face down. The sharp blade cut through the air and made a second acquaintance; the soft base of his skull. Afterward, there was more blood and lots of twitching, but no glowing hands.

If they weren’t in an area with tight security, a gun would have been a lot more useful. But there was no way to escape after a shot went off. This was supposed to be a job to walk away from, not one to die at. These deaths had to be carried out as silently as possible.

The blade was unceremoniously jerked from the skull and wiped along the hem of the corpse’s shirt.

Only one guard outside the door this evening. That had been well planned. Luckily, the assassin had inside intelligence on such opportunities. Otherwise the killing would be a lot more difficult.

After the guard, the only barrier was the door. It stood tall and oaken, but no real challenge. The killer turned the handle. It twisted a quarter of the way  before clicking. Locked.

Static hissed from behind them. In the quiet hall, it had the subtle alacrity of a gunshot.

“Brutus. A silent alarm was triggered. What is your position?”

The killer’s head turned at the sound, then spied the walkie at the hip of the dead guard.

Static. “Brutus? Your position.”

Time was becoming an even more precious commodity. Without hesitation, the killer rushed the body, frantically patting it down until a keyring was found. Nimble fingers loosed it from the corpse’s belt. Then, in a flash, the door handle was jostled and the lock released. “Come in, Brutus. We require a status report.”

Gently, slowly, the assassin pressed against the frame and was met with resistance.. A quick assessment revealed a chain lock bolted in place.

The once quiet estate was picking up with activity. Any second the royal guard would make its way to the highest chamber hall and find Brutus’s body. And then, his killer.

Necessity had the assassin lift the blade and strike a loud tune against the chain. It split from the door in a flash, and the open vastness of the inner chambers were made available.

The killer snuck inside as the dead body left behind continued leaking blood into the polished marble.