About Now I Could Drink Hot Blood, A BBA Menage Novel
by AR Moler
249 pages / 55000 words
ISBN: 978-1-61040-071-8
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html, lit, Adobe and Sony optimized pdf, prc, epub, also available in
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Special Investigative Services agents John Benchley and his lover and
partner Evan Garrett from "And Hell Itself Breathes Out" are back with
another case from the files of the otherworldly and unexplained.
In "Now I Could Drink Hot Blood", they join forces with a psychic assigned
to the FBI, Dr. Gabrielle Dichenz, in order to track a killer. Their latest
case finds them with bodies piling up and all the clues defying everyday
logic. The victims in their case have had their throats ripped out by
something toothy, and all of the bloody samples left behind catch fire in
sunlight. Any other investigators would be baffled, but John, Evan and their
team are far from normal. Can they solve the case before the death toll
sky-rockets?
Meanwhile, their new team member, Dr. Dichenz, has problems of her own in
the guise of an abusive lover, a situation that John finds untenable. He
insists on doing something about it. Will his efforts help or hinder
Gabrielle sort out her personal demons? And can John protect Gabrielle from
a psychopath and a monster without losing his lover Evan?
Review
Syd McGinley, author of the Dr. Fell books, writes: “Now I Could Drink
Hot Blood” is absolutely nail-biting. There are some exquisitely
suspenseful scenes in the continuing adventures of A.R. Moler’s bisexual
psi detectives, John and Evan, and not all of them come from their
supernatural foe. There’s some emotional relationship danger here as
well as some pure human evil.
Their opponent isn’t a sexy conflicted demon: they’re facing real evil,
although for my money the human villain may be the most despicable
character. The people in this tale are all engaging and whoever’s
viewpoint I was in, I was fully engrossed – and then had to flip my
opinion when I saw through the next character’s eyes. The budding ménage
in this story had me rooting for all three to bond – and survive!
A.R. Moler has an authentic grasp of the technical forensic details and
this is a really good crime procedural novel as well as a hot ménage and
supernatural thriller. A triple threat and triple treat!
Sample
Taylor Vanderbilt was issuing orders. His perfectly
pressed suit and aviator style sunglasses were a sharp contrast to John's
jeans and Oxford cloth shirt. John intercepted him.
"We're taking lead on this one," John said. His hands were jammed in the
pockets of his jeans, but he stood squarely in the way of Vanderbilt's
obvious intention to go tromping through the scene.
"Yeah, all right," Vanderbilt consented, which surprised John. He did note
the fact that the FBI man definitely looked pissed about it. "But most of
the trace will get processed by us. We've got more lab resources,"
Vanderbilt pointed out.
"Fair enough." John found himself searching the faces of the FBI personnel
for Brie. Eventually he saw her, digging gloves and some sampling equipment
out of the back of the SUV. She wore a standard issue FBI wind breaker and a
pair of dark slacks. He dodged past a couple of agents on security detail to
get to her.
"Hey, Gabrielle!" he called. She was wearing her dark sunglasses despite the
heavy overcast day. He stopped beside her and laid a hand on her arm. She
looked up at him.
"I recognize those glasses. Migraine?" he asked.
"Yeah, it's trying really hard," she answered slowly.
"Give me five minutes." He pulled her against his body and threaded his
fingers through her hair, rubbing the back of her neck and the knotted
muscles at the base of her skull. Feeling her mind brush across his, there
was just a hint of pure pleasure at his touch as her forehead rested on his
collarbone.
"Interrogation today?" he asked.
"Yes, better than ninety minutes," she whispered. His cheek rested against
the top of her head, and he noticed that they were receiving a couple of
pointed stares. He was amused. He spent a couple more minutes holding her,
trying to ease her headache.
"Better?"
"Some. Hopefully, it's enough that maybe my eyeballs won't fall out." She
pulled away and started putting on her gloves. John grabbed her field kit
box and followed her toward the body where Cecelia and Evan were measuring
and photographing. Several FBI people were doing similar things.
This was going to lead to arguments over who got what samples, John
suspected. As Brie walked the perimeter, John set the box down and watched
her. He slowly realized that she was searching for something, something
specific. She knelt down and used a swab to sample a sample, placing it in a
tube. She stroked her fingers across the spot she had sampled as if she was
feeling the texture of whatever it was through her gloves. The sun chose
that moment to break through the clouds. She let out a little cry, dropping
the tube, which was luckily acrylic, and frantically yanked at the glove on
her hand.
"Fuckfuckfuck!" she yelled.
John lunged forward, dropping to his knees, grabbing her wrist, and peeling
most of the glove the rest of the way off. There was gummy melted residue on
her palm and fingers, and she was grimacing in pain. John looked at her in
concern. How badly was she hurt?
"Hey, Cecelia! Get over here!" he shouted. "What happened?" he demanded of
Gabrielle.
"Major exothermic reaction."
"Say what?"
"It didn't quite burst into flames," said Brie.
Cecelia dropped down beside them.
"Take a look at her hand. Whatever it was melted the glove," John said.
Cecelia took hold of Gabrielle's hand and started flexing her fingers and
trying to assess the damage. "I know it hurts, honey. Just bear with me, I'm
trying to make sure only the skin is damaged," said Cecelia softly, patting
a hand on Brie's shoulder.
"Ow... ow..." muttered Gabrielle as Cecelia peeled bits of melted nitrile
from Gabrielle's hand and started hosing the hand down with saline.
John gave Brie an appraising look, thinking about the way she had seemed to
be hunting for something very specific before the incident. "Why do I think
you aren't all that surprised at what happened? What is that stuff?" he
asked.
Brie glanced up at him. "I suspected it might happen. But not that damn
fast. Oxidation yes, but maybe over minutes or a couple of hours... ow... ow..."
She grimaced at what Cecelia was doing to her fingers.
"I'm nearly done. Just try to hold still, the nitrile is melted onto your
skin. Don't watch. It won't hurt quite so bad." Cecelia suggested. She spent
a few more minutes rinsing the hand and bandaging it.
"What is it?" asked John.
"Blood. I think."
"Blood that gets so hot it melted the glove." He pondered the sheer
strangeness of the idea.
"Um, yes... "Brie appeared a bit tentative at the claim.