TITLE: Deep, Dark, Truthful Mirror
GENRE: Adult - Urban Fantasy
Declan would rather die than kill again. But, to prevent a massacre, he must embrace his power as the newly awakened god of death and choose sides in a divine cold war that pits his conscience against the fallen god who may be his soulmate.
Declan had to get to the brothel on time and stick to the plan or he'd lose his nerve. Chill seeped through his crappy t-shirt. He pulled his leather jacket shut, quickening his step. Cardboard shielding the holes in his boot pinched his foot. At least the boots didn't have to survive another rainy season or even another day.
Just a few more hours, and he'd be done.
Almost ten o'clock. Shit. He couldn't risk missing Thad. He'd have run up Hollywood if everything didn't hurt so damned much. Skag usually deadened anything resembling a feeling, but he wanted no chance of a performance issue, so peace of mind was worth cold-turkey aches. Dope had stopped muting the reaper's demands weeks ago anyway.
He sped past Rubber Room's bouncer, pushed aside the velvet curtain, and gagged on death. Sticky-sweet funk, like rotting fruit drenched in blood, clogged the air. Christ, he hated crowds. Dumps like this were beacons for the doomed. He ought to know.
The club's house lights blurred through a smoke fog, and speakers blared Joey Ramone singing about Sheena the punk rocker. Hustlers worked the usual Friday crowd of syndicate players, gangbangers, and leering civilians. Edgy drunks packed the floor with an aura of violence ready to blow. Some of them wouldn't see the sunny side of tomorrow. The reaper crawled under Dec's skin, testing for gaps in his self-control.
Where the hell was Thad? If he didn't get his hookup soon, somebody was going to die.