Now Available on Pre-Order: Memory's Return

Memory's Return is this month's first short story title and is now available on pre-order. Stepping away from the science-fiction worlds of Odyssey and Delight, Memory's Return takes us to the pixie-dust setting, and a world where magic and all the creatures associated with mankind's myths, have returned.

What's it About?

Memory's Return is an urban fantasy short story that involves Oni, a member of the Paranormal Operations Squad telling her version of events from one night when a night-club went boom.

I came around to a stranger’s touch...and familiar faces I didn’t remember. Memories surfaced slowly, but would they return in time to save the mission, or our lives? And what about those we’re sworn to protect?

Only time will tell, and we have no time. With events coming to a head, we have to roll out…and be prepared to defeat the traitor in our midst, as we bring our investigation to a close.

Can we do it before they strike again? Well, there’s only way to find out, isn’t there?

You can find links to where it is available on this Books2Read page: https://books2read.com/u/3nMVa8, and subscribers to my ReamStories page at the Perimeter Surveillance level and higher can begin reading it straight away.

How Does It Start?

Hands caressed me in the dark, strong hands, narrow-fingered and callous-palmed, but gentle.

“She’ll live.”

And I realized the hands had not been caressing me, so much as checking for injuries, and it was dark because my eyes were closed. A finger lifted one of my eyelids, and I caught sight of a blurry face.

“You back?” the same voice asked, and my eye was allowed to close, again.

“Sure,” I said, and my voice sounded like I’d been breathing night-club smoke and singing at the top of my lungs all night.

Actually, that sounded right, and also kinda wrong. I didn’t go to night clubs. Never…ever… Oh. Wait a minute. I sat up, and wrapped my arms around my knees, forcing my eyes to open as I did. Smokey smell, minor injuries, smoke-scalded throat, and bruised all over. I rested my chin on my knees, and watched as my friends and colleagues shuffled into view.

“We didn’t stop them, did we?” I asked, and, even to me, my voice sounded bleak.

I didn’t care. My voice matched my mood, crashing depression, an inexorable sense of loss. I wish I could explain why…or maybe not. Maybe that last feeling was something I needed to explore later, on my own. Yeah, definitely maybe.

I stared at the half circle of solemn faces in front of me, and tried to put names to them. The dark one right in front of me, the one belonging to the guy holding me by both shoulders, that face was one I really should remember. I stared at him, feeling my eyebrows coming together in a frown as I tried to place him.

His dark eyes stared back into mine. They were brown, a brown so dark it was almost black. I loved those eyes…and that brought back another association: those hands—narrow-fingered, callous-palmed, and gentle, so very, very gentle. I reached out and touched my fingertips to his cheek.

“I love you,” I said, and his eyes widened in utter, terrible surprise.

His reaction made me wonder, as I watched the expressions crossing his face, I identified fear, wonder, sheer delight, and unspoken horror. It made me want to laugh and cry and apologize all at once—and, judging from the reactions of those around us, we weren’t alone.

I took my hand away from his cheek, and wrapped it back around my knees. I kept staring, frowning harder as I tried to rediscover his name—and maybe something more, like what he was when he wasn’t rescuing damsels in distress, or confusing the hell out of me.

“Hey, Oni, you okay?”

I saw his mouth move, heard the words come out, and the world shuddered.

I saw him see the shudder cross my face, and then watched as he glanced back over his shoulder. Not only that, but the blonde to his left, and the red-head beside the blonde, also looked over their shoulders. To the right of him, the mousy guy and the albino one also looked back.

Oh shit. It wasn’t just me.

And all of a sudden, they scattered. Dark Eyes and the red-head reached back and grabbed me, yanking me in two different directions, before deciding to follow the mousy guy into the shadow of a doorstop. I saw the blonde and the albino one make another doorstop on the other side of the street, and then the wind hit.

The wind, like a solid wall, sweeping the street clean, and hurling rubbish before it. I saw a dumpster fly past, then a motorcycle, and watched as a car slid by, metal screaming against the bitumen. I saw humans…bits of humans follow, and then the sound came.

It didn’t howl, or roar; it was just loud, purely and unadulteratedly loud. It defied description. I knew what this was, but I couldn’t name it. Couldn’t name it, like I couldn’t name the beautiful man holding me safe, or his red-headed companion.

None of us moved, when it stopped. We sat, braced in the doorway, trying to remember how to breathe.

“What the hell did you do?” the beautiful man asked.

“Yeah, Babe,” the red-head repeated. “Just what did you do?

Where Do You Find It?

You can find this short story in Pixie-Dust Dreaming, the seventh volume in the C.M.'s Collections series, or as a stand-alone short story on the C.M.'s Singles Books2Read page: https://books2read.com/rl/cmssingles.