QSFer Rory Ni Coileain has a new Fantasy book out:
More than two thousand years ago, the healer Lochlann Doran was the first Fae to leave the Realm after the Sundering of the Fae and human worlds. After centuries of wandering the human world, seeking his SoulShare, he has spent all his magick, and lost all his hope.
Garrett Templar is the star pole dancer at Purgatory, the hottest gay nightclub in Washington, D.C. If his past hadn’t taught him the futility of hope, his present surely would; HIV-positive since age 18, his illness has suddenly and inexplicably mutated into drug-impervious AIDS.
A SoulShare bond with Garrett may give Lochlann back his magick, his gift of healing. But it also might kill him. And if he survives the return of his magick, the Marfach and its host are waiting to use the dancer as bait in a deadly trap. Only an impossible love can save them both.
And everyone knows Fae don’t love….
Book 3 of the SoulShares Series
Garrett trudged on, not really noticing as blocks went past, and the more affluent neighborhood immediately south of the club gave way to small storefronts and offices, crowded together and topped with apartments. Not nearly as much foot traffic here, nothing to attract anyone outside of working hours. Or maybe stepping-out- to-the-deli hours. He had just spotted the recessed doorway that would take him up to his own apartment, directly over Luigi’s Italian Ristorante with the missing “n” where a rock or a bullet had taken out the neon tubing two or three years ago, when he first heard the footsteps behind him. Not quite running, but coming up fast.
Shit. His grip tightened on the strap of his bag, ready to swing it — or ditch it, if it looked like that would help him escape. And for one sick, sweaty, gut-wrenching moment, he was ten years old again, hearing the kids closing in behind him, knowing there was no way in hell he was going to get away without another split lip, ruined shirt, blackened eye. Almost hearing his mother’s voice again. Garrett Lee Templar, I swear, you find more trouble than any ten other boys ever dreamed of. Do you think I can just make new clothes appear out of thin air?
He recognized that voice from somewhere. Slowly, he turned. And stared up into eyes that gleamed blue even in the crappy light from the streetlight on the corner.
“Lochlann?” He hadn’t had to rent his ass out for a while now, but the idea of a john following him home from the club still made his skin crawl. Yet there was something about those eyes, something different.
No. Fuck that shit. You get hurt the worst when you let yourself hope.
“Yes.” The guy looked almost as uncomfortable as Garrett felt, shifting from one foot to the other, hands plunged deep into the pockets of his heavy wool coat. “Look, I’m not stalking you, and I don’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted to see how you’re doing. And maybe talk for a few minutes.”
The john’s smile flashed briefly, transforming the beard-shadowed face above him into unexpected, breathtaking beauty. For a second, all Garrett could do was stare and hope his mouth wasn’t hanging open. Oh, Jesus. Ask me to do anything. Anything at all. Just smile when you do it.
Then the smile faded, and Garrett shook his head, trying to clear it. “I, uh, yeah. Sure.” He looked up, almost afraid to look in those eyes again. Way up. Guy had to be six-four at least, putting his five-nine at a decided disadvantage if things got rough. Here’s hoping they don’t. “You want to come in? It’s kind of cold out here.”
“Thanks, I’d like that.”
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Rory Ni Coileain majored in creative writing, back when Respectable Colleges didn’t offer such a major, so she designed it herself – being careful to ensure that she never had to take a class before nine in the morning or take a Hemingway survey course. She graduated Phi Beta Kappa at the age of nineteen, sent off her first short story to an anthology being assembled by an author she idolized, got the kind of rejection letter that puts therapists’ kids through college, and found other things to do, such as nightclub singing and volunteering as a lawyer with Gay Men’s Health Crisis, for the next thirty years or so, until her stories started whispering to her. Now she’s a legal editor, the mother of a budding filmmaker, and amanuensis to a host of fantastic creatures who are all anxious to tell their stories. And who aren’t very good at waiting their turn.