Also, before we launch into the segment, I believe I promised some readers a peek at Race to Redemption, that short story that served as my example for my writing process last spring. The story is out on submission, but I'm happy to give folks a private looksie. Email me if ya want.
Ok, so here's a scene. Our boys are preparing to defend former enemies against Crusaders and something Trinidad has done comes back to bite him. Even after this scene, he has no idea just how deep that bite will go.
The Indigo cast them a surly glance and dumped it on the table. The silver hilt of
“The archwarden asked you a question,”
The man turned back to them. He was missing an eyetooth and a scar marred his lip over the gap. “Looks to be the whole Diocese come calling,” he said, gruff. “Two thousand strong, at least.”
“Make that four,”
“You think that makes me trust you?” the man said, stepping closer and fixing Trinidad with a level stare. “Like it's intel or some shit when I can count for my fucking self?”
“I'm here to help you,”
“No, you’d be with them. Those are your people out there,” the man said, edging forward another few feet. He wasn’t armed with more than a sneer, from what
“They may be mine, but it doesn't make them right,”
“Say what you want. You don't fool me. I know what you done. I know what you really are.” The man poked
“If you have something to say, then talk,” he told the man.
“You're a killer. You killed my brother’n made sure we knew, din’ you? And wear his scarf like a fucking trophy.”
“Say what you like,” the man said again, and spat at the floor between them. “I don’ believe you.”
“I don't know what else to say but--”
Blinding pain slammed through his jaw and rocketed through his head.
“You think that makes it right?” the man said. He spat again, this time in
Trinidad let go of
“Still. I can’t help hating you getting hurt,” Castile said, grasping