Archive for the ‘Flash Friday’ Category

Flash Friday: “Missing in Action”

Friday, May 23rd, 2008

copyright 2004 by Esther Mitchell

   The piercing sound of a siren yanked Jaye abruptly from the arms of sleep, and fantasies of a man she wasn’t allowed to want, in her waking hours.  Bolting upright in bed, she scrambled blindly on the nightstand for her cell phone as the siren went on and on.  That sound was her ring-tone for the hospital, guaranteed to wake her no matter how deeply she slept.

     Heart in her throat, she punched talk as she lifted the unit to her ear.  “Dr. Michaels.”

     “Ma’am, it’s Chief James, in Trauma.  Did you have your patient scheduled to be moved, tonight?”

    She didn’t have to ask which patient.  She only had one in Trauma.  Jaye’s chest constricted to the point of pain, and she couldn’t breathe for a long moment, before she managed a hoarse, “No.”

    There was a pause.  “I was afraid of that.  Commander, we’re short one patient – your Mr. Watkins.”

    Jaye bit back her first response – that he wasn’t her anything; not anymore.  But that would be unprofessional, and admit to way more than Jaye was comfortable with, at the moment.  Instead, she focused on the immediate problem.

   “He suffers from mild insomnia.  Have you checked the cafeteria or waiting rooms, yet?”

   “Yes, ma’am.  No one in the hospital’s seen him since last bed check.”

   Jaye’s heart took up residence in her throat, but she forced it back in rhythm.  She refused to panic.  Instead, she drew even breaths against the suffocating fear that closed around her.  Eyes closed, she tried to think.  Where did you go, Trevor?

    A soundless howl reverberated through her body, followed by the rustle of leaves.  Jaye froze.  She sat on the edge of her bed, and yet if she didn’t know better, she’d think she was crouched in the bushes.  She swallowed hard.  Now was the wrong time for hallucinations.

    Grimly, she snapped on the bedside lamp and rose to her feet as she addressed Lydia James over the phone.  “I’ll be there ASAP.  Just keep looking.  And, Chief…”

    “Yes, Ma’am?”

    “If you find him and he’s not fully awake, no one is to go near him until I get there.  Got that?”

    “If we find him, Commander, he’s all yours,” Chief James promised, and the relief in her voice couldn’t be more obvious.  As she hung up the phone, a new grimness tugged at Jaye.  If she was right, Trevor’s problems were far from over.  In fact, she’d wager her life that they were just beginning.

 Like what you read?  Check out these other Project Prometheus titles -

Matt Raleigh… Terrorist hunter, or Demon Slayer?  Find out in Project Prometheus’ explosive debut, IN HER NAME … available now at
http://www.aspenmountainpress.com/in-her-name/prod_73.html

When the hunter becomes the hunted, can love show him the way back to life?   HOPE OF HEAVEN (Book #2 of Project Prometheus), now available at http://www.aspenmountainpress.com/hope-of-heaven/prod_128.html And watch for this title, SHADOW WALKER, coming soon!

Flash Friday: “Jitters” (Excerpted from TEMPTING FATE)

Friday, April 25th, 2008

This Flash Friday comes from a Paranormal/Fantasy book published a few years ago (and now looking for a new home).  Alasdair MacCorran is a sorceror from another dimension, and a bet has put Megara Tempest into his hands as a magical apprentice.  But when Mac falls for the woman he’s not allowed to have, the web of half-truths he’s built is about to come unraveled… 

 

          “You need to calm down.”

            Meg whirled at the sound of Mac’s voice, to find the man in question standing in the sitting room archway.  Her gaze slid over his dark silk shirt – a shade of green she supposed qualified as olive – and black leather pants and jacket, and dropped quickly to his motorcycle boots as she fought down a surge of heat.  He’d never looked so good, and she’d never felt so desperate, before.  He wanted her to be calm?  She uttered a disbelieving laugh.

            “Screw you,” she shot back.

            His chuckle shot through her tightly strung nerves, and the flare in his eyes told her she’d just made a tactical error.  “Was that an offer, leannan?”

            “No!”

            “That was a joke, Meg.  Lighten up.”  There was a definite edge of hurt to his tone.  God, she didn’t want to think about it.

            “I’m not the one who lied,” she reminded him quietly.

            She resumed pacing, too wound up to stay motionless.  She needed to move, or she’d go crazy.  She heard Mac’s sigh, before she suddenly found her path blocked by six-foot-three of silk-and-leather clad man.  She glared up at him, even as her heart tripped.  “Move.”

            “Meg…”

            She opened her mouth, intent on telling him off.  Her glare clashed with the tender exasperation in his eyes, and the effect was like a kick in the ribs.  She couldn’t breathe, under the force of his gaze.  Her heart hammered, and her brain grew fuzzy.  Her anger slid from her grasp steadily, in spite of her stubborn grip on it.  She wanted to blame him, to label it some spell he’d placed on her.  Only, she knew quite well Mac’s magic couldn’t influence – couldn’t even touch – the human heart or soul, just as she knew he’d never use it, even if he could.  She summoned up her most forbidding scowl, anyway.

            “Don’t look at me like that, dammit!”

            To his credit, Mac didn’t even attempt innocence.  Instead, his lips quirked wryly.  “Why not?”

            Irritation coiled in her, until she wanted to scream.  She saw the gleam in his eyes, and knew he saw her mounting frustration, and found it amusing.  She refused to be his entertainment, damn him.  With a dark glare, she planted her fists on her hips and got in his face, instead.

            “Because I want to be mad at you, Alasdair MacCorran!  I want to be so furious I can hate you.  You lied to me!”

            “Never,” he argued quietly, all trace of humor gone from his face.

            He wasn’t getting away with sincerity, either.  “You never told me I’d have to perform for anyone!”

            “True.  But nor did I ever say you wouldn’t.”

            Meg clenched her hands together because if she made fists, one of them was going to land squarely in that blandly unconcerned face of Mac’s.  With a growl of frustration, she stalked away, until the window brought her up short.

            “A lie of omission is still a lie, Mac.”  She stared bleakly out the window.  “Now what do I do?”

            “You put a smile on your face, hold your head up, and march into that conference as the bold, confident Meg I know,” he said quietly.  She heard his booted step on the hard wood, and felt his steadying presence envelope her, even before his arms did.  Against her will, her treacherous body sought comfort in his embrace, and she sank against him.

            He was wrong.  She wasn’t bold, and she wasn’t confident.  She’d bluffed her way through life, convincing everyone else she was strong and capable, that she’d chosen the life she lived.  But Meg knew the truth; she had no illusions about herself.  The real Meg was scared and shy, and weak.  The real Meg had been beaten at life so often she no longer believed she was capable.

            “I can’t do this,” she whispered painfully, more to herself than the man behind her.

            “You’ll do fine,” he murmured against her ear, warming Meg in spite of her fears.  “In two days, you mastered what I laid out for your performance.  You’re ready for this, m’gradh.  As ready as any other apprentice; more ready than you believe.”

            She sighed, and a chill settled over her.  It was the cold grip of panic.  His assurances weren’t having the effect she imagined he was looking for.  Instead, her tension grew ten-fold.  She had the unsettling sense her whole life – her very survival, perhaps – hinged on the actions of the next few days.  No matter what Mac said or believed, she wasn’t ready.  Not by a long shot.