Terrance is happy with Alex, and for the first time, the voices in his head seem low and far away. Then they begin again, horrifying images fill his mind, as a small boy calls to him. No matter what, Terrance needs to follow that voice. But can he trust it? Is it really the voice of a small boy in trouble, or the voices from hell itself?
Terrance’s communication with the dead leads him to some surprising discoveries.
“You look like hell,” Wes announced as Alex picked at the napkin sitting beside his coffee mug.
“I haven’t had a hell of a lot of sleep lately,” Alex murmured, taking another sip of his coffee. He glanced at the mirrored tile wall over Wes’s head as he said it and ran a hand through his black hair. It was too long and had started to curl on the collar of his pale green shirt. He noticed that his cheekbones were a little more pronounced than normal and there were smudges under his dark blue eyes.
“Is it Terrance?”
Alex looked at Wes and nodded silently. He felt guilty talking about this to him, even though Wes had been his best friend since grade school.
“I thought Terrance had those voices under control.”
“He does, or rather he did, but…” Alex paused. “This time, it’s different.”
“Different, how?” Wes narrowed his eyes.
“I’m not really sure. It started about a week ago but…Terrance told me it’s not like the regulars.”
“Regulars.” Wes shook his head. “Imagine having regular dead people dropping by to chat.” He picked up his cup.
Alex rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. He hadn’t bothered to shave today. He’d been too tired when he got out of bed. “He won’t tell me much about this one.”
“Alex, you know I love Terrance. Hell.” Wes reached over and touched his hand. “I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for Terrance.” A shadow crossed his face as he sat back.
Alex observed the silence between them. It had been close to a year since Wes had been abducted by a serial killer. He’d almost died. It had marked him, changed him even. In some ways, Wes had come to appreciate life more, even become a better friend.
I write not only for my own pleasure, but for the pleasure of my readers. I can’t remember a time in my life when I haven’t written and told stories. When I’m not writing, I’m dreaming about writing, doing something wild and adventurous, or trying to make the world a better and more open minded place to live in. I adore beautiful men, and I know I’m not alone in this! Eroticism between consenting adults, in all its many forms is the icing on the cake of life!