About Fiends in Low Places

by Missouri Dalton
17 pages / 4100 words
Ebook zipped file contains - html, lit, Adobe and Sony optimized pdf, prc, epub

Simon Murphy, psychic and former thief is trying to rekindle the romance between himself and his FBI beau, Gabriel. The two of them have gone from being on opposite sides of the law, to the same side, to fighting over cases. At each step they've been drawn closer together and thrown apart over their constant fighting. Can a pizza date fix this mess? Or will the vampire mobsters after Simon ruin any chance Simon has of being with the man he really loves?

Sample

When I met Gabriel, it would be fair to say we got off on the wrong foot. There I was, son of a notorious mob boss, stealing from high end jewelry stores for kicks, and there he was—trying to bust my father for one of the many, many bad things he’s done in his lifetime.

Naturally I did what any good son would do. I kept my mouth shut.

That didn’t sit well with Gabriel and to tell the truth it didn’t really sit well with me, either. We were put on opposite sides all over again when we were reunited over a case. This time, I was on the right side of the law and he was in the way of my investigation. Not that I could tell him the truth about that, either.

I was diagnosed with narcolepsy when I was five years old. For most of my life, I believed that was what was wrong with me. I believed it was what caused me to fall unconscious, caused my rampant insomnia, and the night terrors. When I was nineteen, that fell apart when I learned the truth. I wasn’t narcoleptic.

I work for the Night Shift, a pseudo-secret government agency masquerading as a sort of internal affairs agency. We work the strange, the weird, the supernatural cases. I live and work in Chicago, where I was born. I’ve been on the job for three years now, and I celebrated my twenty-first year with a sobriety chip from AA and setting fire to a nest full of ghouls. It was a pretty good birthday.

Gabriel and I have been on and off—sort of. He’s busy, and sort of hates me, and I’m busy—and sort of hate him. The truth is we stepped on each other’s toes a few too many times and now neither one of us wants to admit we were wrong.

I’m such a grown-up.