Aiden’s Justice

Here’s how Aident gets his revenge on Marco’s father–it’s a little lengthy, but I’ve had a few requests and I didn’t really want to cut it down:

They all put their arms back down to their sides, lowering their eyes like good little boys. All except Ruiz. They grab their stuff and split, one by one…

…all except Ruiz. He yells out at his compadres, though.

“Hey, where you guys goin’? You pollies don’t wanna piece of cracker?” He lets out a cackle, shaking his head, then stalks over to the door and slams it shut.

“Good riddance, you pansy asses.”

I flick my finger and the deadbolt flips, locking the door. Ruiz is startled at that, since I was nowhere near the door, then he comes and gets in my face.

Big mistake.

“Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing here, you motherfucker?” he growled, positvely vibrating with fury. Ruiz is looking like one of those fighting roosters, fueled by adrenaline and cheap drugs. That’s why he can last longer looking right at me, but that’s all right. That means I’ll have longer to enjoy the final outcome. I finish sizing him up and see a cocky loser wearing a stained, filthy wifebeater that shows his jailhouse tattoos, fists clenched and ready, bouncing from one foot to the other like a used up bantamweight boxer. What a poser. He has no idea, and I certainly prefer it that way. I move my face closer to his, and he looks in my eyes again. This time, it’s too much and he backs off a little.

“I’m here standing up for your son, Mr. Ruiz, your gay son. The one you beat up.”

I smile and he sees my incisors trying to come out, and I smile even wider at his eyes, and that little line of sweat sprouting on his forehead.

“I didn’t know I had a son, I thought he was my daughter, homes,” he chuckles, his nerves coming out.

“Your son is more of a man than you are, ese,” I tell him quietly, simmering rage in my voice. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and backs away from me.

“How do you know that, gringo chump? You been fucking his ass or somethin’?” He gives me a snort of derision. “He been gettin’ you off?”

“You’re a pig, Mr. Ruiz. Do you know that?” I move toward him again, closing the gap he’d made earlier. He stutters a little, then gets quiet.

It’s almost time.

“Do you know something else, Mr. Ruiz?” I ask. “I used to like pork—when I was human.” Quick as a flash, I grab him around the neck, my long fingernails digging into his flesh  as I pull him close. His eyes are huge with panic, but there’s no need for any more pleasantries. I bury my fangs in his carotid, shaking my head back and forth like the dog I am as I tear a gaping hole in his throat. I gulp the blood spouting from him in a great wave, bathing in it, reveling in the taste and the smell of it. My pleasure is so sharp that I throw my arms around him and squeeze, breaking his spine in half with a grunt. He screams as much as he is able as the life flows out of him, and his open mouth freezes as his heart stops beating, his blood fading from my face and clothes. A primal yell comes out of me as I fling him into the corner of the room and he lands on Mrs. Ruiz’s china cabinet, turning it over on him and shattering everything inside.

Poor Esme is going to find a crime scene when she returns, because I’m certainly not going to disguise anything on that sonofabitch. The only blood I care about is what was on me, and in me of course. She’s going to find a crime scene when she returns, that’s certain. I don’t leave DNA or fingerprints, so those homies I chased out will be the first ones they come looking for. They won’t even be able to say what I look like.

I run out the back door, high on bad blood as I feel the Irish seeping back into me; the Irish of the old days. I need to cool off a little and get some sleep and a meal with some decency to dilute this. I won’t be able to stand any sun at all with Spider in me, now will I?

“Ah, boyo, ye best be gettin’ on now,” I say to myself. “Yer langered now fer sure.”

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More Aiden

Here’s a little of what happens after, within the constraints of the six sentence limit 🙂 My Snippet Sunday will be much more involved–what happens to dear Spider:

“Who the fuck are you, bolillo?”

I give him a mild stare, and he jumps just the slightest bit at my pure black eyes. Isn’t that classy? I’m sure he could have called me worse. I nod at his company, inclining my head toward the door.

“Go on, get out of here.”

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Aiden Pays A Visit

Here’s as snippet from my WIP Chicago Circle, in which Aiden pays a visit to Marco’s father–it’s time for payback. Marco came out to him and it didn’t end well. (don’t worry, Marco’s not dead 🙂 )

Here it is. It’s almost full dark now, and I know I’m out of place here. The run-down buildings and houses, the boarded up storefronts remind me of the tenement blocks in old time Chicago, back when I was still human. Young kids with pants around their knees give me the stinkeye, but I don’t really care. What can they do to me, after all? If the police ask questions, they won’t even remember my race, let alone what I look like. There’s Latin rap blasting from inside, and I hope the police aren’t called for the noise. On second thought, that’s not very likely in this neighborhood; I’m sure Mr. Ruiz has a reputation that precedes him.

I bang on the bleached out, peeling door with my fist, but nothing happens.

All right, if that’s the way you want to play it…

I put my hand flat on the door and close my eyes, concentrating, and the door flies open, rattling in its frame and hitting the wall behind it with a booming thud. I walk through, and the door swings back shut on its own as the music suddenly cuts off.

“Who the fuck are you?” some pumped up macho man asks. This must be the vaunted Spider Ruiz.

I give a good look at the scene in front of me; loads of brew bottles with half-drowned cigarettes in the dregs, rolling papers, trays with ground up pot, crack pipes black with carbon.

It also looks like Mr. Ruiz has guests. All the available seats are taken up with punks that resemble their host. That’s all right; I’m not going to be staying long enough to sit. A few of the braver souls stand, hands at their sides like a group of modern day gunslingers.

As if that would do a bit of good.

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Photo courtesy of thegrio.comgun-file-photo


I thought it might be appropriate, with the coming eclipse, to show a little of Alasdair’s problem with sunlight from Heart’s Embers–

“No, but sunlight bends and refracts off me in unusual ways. Just—don’t be alarmed,” he said as they pulled up to Jon’s house a short distance from where he was waiting. “Don’t pull away until I make myself noticed.”

Jeffrey nodded his head and watched as Alasdair reached for the door handle, moving into the sunlight as Jon started walking toward the car. He blinked, staring as he watched Alasdair fade into nothing, the door opening on its own.

Alasdair was—gone.

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Carl’s Past

Since my Rainbow snippet of yesterday is a little more involved than usual and has spoilers, I decided to go with a memory from Carl’s past from Talk Of The Town–the last time he saw his parents in Renaissance Florence before he left for England and his eventual rebirth as a vampire.

“Good luck, my son.  Keep safe.”  He smiled.

“I will, father. Take care of Mama.”  He turned and followed the crewman up the gangplank.  It was drawn up from the dock, and the ship started drifting out of port, bound for Britain.  Carlo stood on the deck smelling the salt air mixed with the rising odor of floating fish, hearing the flat sound of the oars slapping the water. He raised his hand to his mother and father, straining to see them until he could no longer, and the early morning mist covered the shore…


Carl shook his head to clear his thoughts.  It was hard to admit to himself that he missed his parents after all these centuries. It would have been a matter of weeks until he would have returned home to Firenze if it had not been for that interlude in the library. He touched the ring again, thinking that he could never give it back to his father now.   They had sent people to look for him in Oxford when he did not return, but he had made himself scarce, and they had finally given up, resigned to the fact that he was gone.  They were safer that way.  He was glad that he had not found a wife, even though it was not from lack of trying. He smiled at the thought of all the ladies that had auditioned.

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This snippet is from Las Vegas Circle in which Frank, the homophobic, racist sheriff that he is, discovers Thomas and Edgar in their hotel room office–He should probably worry more about their undead status 🙂

“I had my suspicions about you, Thomas, though; I gotta say my problem with you was mainly that you were an Injun, not that you were a faggot queen that would let some back East dandy stick his cock up your ass.”

Edgar stepped forward, furious. His eyes were totally black and rimmed with red; Thomas’s were undoubtedly the same way. Thomas knew nether of them would be able to control themselves for much longer.

“Watch yourself, bastard human,” Edgar growled. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

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This snippet is a continuation from my Rainbow Snippet of yesterday, in which Jeffrey and Bruce are in the bathroom ❤

Jeffrey blinked, shaking his head a little. He took the towel from Bruce.

“Sorry, love, my mind was elsewhere.” He started gently drying Bruce’s hair, then ran his fingers through its curly black softness.

“I know where it was. You were ogling me, weren’t you?” Bruce said, laughing.

“I feel so used.”

Jeffrey smiled.

“Not half as used as you’re going to feel, sweetheart.”

Jeffrey leaned forward, burying his face in Bruce’s hair, closing his eyes.

“I missed you so much, not having you here.”

Bruce felt him, felt Jeffrey trembling, and slid his hands up Jeffrey’s chest, putting his arms around his neck.

“Would you help me get ready for bed?” Bruce whispered to him.

“Then I think we need to help each other.”

Jeffrey kissed him, long, slow and sweet.

“Let’s take care of your legs, my love, then I will finally get to nurse on that beautiful cock of yours until you scream for mercy,” he said, making Bruce chuckle.

“I hope Poppa’s a heavy sleeper,” he said.

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