Sneak Peek: Good Intentions IV -- SPOILERS! (Patreon)

Hey all!

This month's short story is gonna be a day or two late. Sorry about that. Life has been crazy and I'm still working on it, BUT it's coming along nicely. This will be the first Molly and Onyx (and Alex) story for the Patreon.

In keeping with that theme, I figured I'd drop a Molly and Onyx scene for the forthcoming book for this month's first sneak peek... and since I'm late I figured I'd go with something a little more revealing of events in the novel than the earlier previews. As for how important this is to the plot or what it all means, I'll leave you to speculate until the book drops.

“Magic calls to its own," said the silhouette. "You know this. If you run, we will chase you down. If you hide, we will find you. No one will help you. No one is coming to your rescue.”

She backed up into the mast—no. Not the mast. Something else, she realized in a rush. Someone. The boat was gone, along with the ocean and the shoreline. She saw green sleeves and black metal, a helmet shaped like a bowl, and a pale face set in defiance. The soldier shouted as he raised his gun, “Get down!”

The roar of gunfire pulled Onyx from her nap, sending her halfway upright with a yelp. She cringed from the muzzle flash and the shouting man in fatigues and a helmet right in front of her, but he wasn’t the same man. This one was on a television screen.

She was on the couch with a blanket over her legs and a pillow behind her, wearing a simple dark t-shirt and leggings. Curtains muted the light of a partly grey day outside. She was surrounded by second-hand furniture, bookshelves stuffed to capacity, paintings by friends bought on display at coffee shops, and a war streaming on HBO. For all the creature comforts, it was the latter that pushed back against her fears.

“Hey. Was that you?” Molly rounded the wall separating their living room from the kitchen in her usual black jeans and black t-shirt ensemble, this time bearing the logo of an underappreciated comic book rather than a band. Her spiky fire-engine red hair was always her primary splash of color. “Everything okay?”

Onyx touched her forehead, feeling locks of her curly black hair along the way. She felt warm, but hadn’t been sweating. The scene she knew by heart gave her another clue. She hadn’t drifted off long ago. “Yeah. Sorry. Bad dream.”

Her partner looked skeptically to the television, then back again. Onyx rolled her eyes. “Not that,” she said.

“Uh-huh.”

“I know you hate that scene.”

“Yeah, ‘cause the horse dies,” said Molly. She plucked the remote from the coffee table to mute the screen. “What kind of bad dream?”

“I dunno.” Onyx looked away, searching her memories. She frowned. “I think there was a boat? Or maybe it was taxes?”

“But you didn’t show up late for class naked with a mid-term you forgot about and your teeth are all cracking and falling out and so is your hair?”

“No! God! Thanks for all those images.”

“You’re not thinking about your nightmares anymore, are you?”

“I couldn’t remember them anyway!”

“See? I’m a helper.” Molly shrugged. “I know you’re wound up about today.”

“You’re wound up. We both are.” She frowned as Molly came closer. “Does it show?”

“It’s not your aura," said Molly. "Pretty sure it's not the World War II movies. It's never those.”

Onyx plucked the remote from Molly’s hand to shut off the TV screen, then dropped it to her side. She pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “They make me feel safe,” she muttered. "They always have."