Archive for 2016 | Yearly archive page
Species, the urban fantasy I wrote with K.H. Koehler, is now live at Kindle! This will be the last book I’ll write for a long time, so I hope you all enjoy it. Go snap up a copy now! Link and blurb below. Hope everyone had a great Halloween!
About: The world is weird. Leigh had no idea how much so until she gets attacked by a vampire-like… something. And now she’s one of them.
What’s worse, absolutely none of the usual rules apply. The Species, as they are called, operate in a shadowy underworld of gothic debauchery, secretly controlling almost every part of human society.
And then there’s Aidan… one of the most powerful, troubled, and beautiful of the Aristocrats. Leigh could fall hard for the guy, but then she uncovers a massive, global conspiracy by the Aristocrats to turn the human race into cattle and the other Subspecies into slaves.
There’s a civil war coming. And if Leigh and Aidan can’t stop it, then it’s the humans who will pay the ultimate price.
If you like action-packed urban fantasy, pulse-pounding paranormal romance, and an unforgettable adventure, then this novel is for you!
Leap into the world of magic and corruption. Get your copy of Species today!
Big thanks to everyone who has already grabbed a copy!
A Deity in Therapy, For the Love of Art, and What Kind of Monster? originally appeared in Flashshot Magazine.
A Deity in Therapy
Nyx spread her cloak of starlight across the therapist’s couch then settled her raven head against the leather arm.
“Why would one as old as you need a mortal’s help?” The doctor scrawled a note in his journal.
She laid a hand made of midnight clouds against her brow. “When you are the mother of many discordant deities, it tends to wear you down. My dark children clamor to me for advice. To settle their ceaseless disputes.”
The psychiatrist nodded.
“At least my offspring who roam the day are blessed. Such a carefree existence in the light.”
For the Love of Art
She slid the hammer over his throat. A winter wind fluttered through the open window and plucked the hair from her cheek.
“Wouldn’t you prefer the blade?” Her face held the beauty of deep concern.
“No.” He smiled and kissed her slender wrist. “I want it to be messy. My death should be like my art—chaotic.”
Biting her ruby-painted lip, she drew the claw-head up and back over her head. “I’ll paint a cityscape with your brains, lover.”
“That will be nice, dear.” He nodded, before the blunt, round steel smashed his skull open.
What Kind of Monster?
Ramona shivered as she secured the manacle around his thick wrist. “No idea?”
He shook his bent head. “None.”
Water trickled down the dungeon walls and blended with his blue-black hair.
“The transformation begins.” She swallowed. “We’ll soon find out.”
“No, we won’t.” His voice sounded like metal dragged over broken glass.
Ramona watched as his body contorted into something between animal and human. “My god,” she cried. “What are you?”
“I wish I knew.” He leapt forward and broke the chains, then he tore her throat out.
For more free fiction, check out Happy Birthday, Clandestine.
Copyright 2004 – 2016 Louise Bohmer. All rights reserved.
Happy Birthday, Clandestine originally appeared in Alien Skin Magazine.
Happy Birthday, Clandestine
He led her down the rough, pine board stairs. A spicy mixture of herbs, incense, and old dirt perfumed the air.
“What have you gone and done this time?” She squeezed the arm of her shaman lover, anxious for the surprise he promised.
“I hope you will like it.” He stroked the length of her chestnut tresses and she shivered.
Her bare feet touched the cool, earthen floor, and she fiddled with the black silk blindfold, willing him to take it off with her eager thoughts. “I’m sure I will.”
A humming, thick and low, poured up through the terra firma and into her feet.
“Have you modified it?” She cocked her head and listened while he removed the scarf from her eyes.
“I bought a new one for your birthday.”
He kissed her forehead and the loose skin there moved beneath the motion of his lips. She pushed him away with a half-hearted hand. The decay of her flesh disturbed Clandestine.
“Oh,” her sadness dashed as her eyes focused, “you painted it.” She kissed him. “How thoughtful, darling.” Running her hand along the length of the freezer, she admired its fresh ebony surface. “It is beautiful.” He’d added golden moons with passive faces, and stars as well.
The shaman wrapped his arms around her waist, and a bit of inner meat pulled free from her ribs. “I’m glad you like it.”
Freeing herself of his touch (it only renewed the memory of her death and impatience), she turned and cupped his face. “I’ll sleep like a queen.”
His smile held melancholy as he took her hands in his. “Shall we open it then?”
She sighed, and a hollowness in her chest argued with her need for regeneration.
“Yes.” Bending her head, she kissed the tips of his fingers. “I think it’s time.”
He moved in front of her and peeled the lid back. A gust of wet, frozen air lifted and brushed against her face.
“I am … a year older.” Coming closer, she wrapped her fingers around the lip of her chamber and stared down at the bed of waiting ice.
He nodded, and she noticed the tears he would not shed.
“It means a year longer,” he closed his eyes and took a breath before he continued, “spent in slumber.”
She knew he was trying to hide the pain from her — such a bittersweet arrangement they had.
“I know.” Kissing the point of his hawkish nose, she left a bit of rosy-lip-turned-grey on the tip of his aristocratic profile. She tried to wipe it off, but he stopped her.
“Leave it, please?” His voice wavered enough to break her sluggish heart.
He helped her into the resurrection tank and she settled into a comfortable position. He zippered her into the body bag quilt, tucking the metal tab securely under her chin.
“It will seem like only a day.”
“Yes.” He laughed sadly, while he traced the hole in her cheek with a slow, lingering finger. “Only a day.” The lazy circles he made tickled her exposed jawbone.
“I’ll dream myself as a redhead this time.” She grinned and closed her eyes, unable to keep them open a moment longer. “Would you like that?”
“Very much.” The darkness behind her eyelids deepened as the lid descended. “Happy Birthday, Clandestine.”
Copyright 2004 – 2016 Louise Bohmer. All rights reserved.