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I'll be at The Romance Studio this weekend with a lot of wonderful authors, and I'll be talking about odd things I've researched and doing a give-away of Life and Nothing But and City of Gold. The End of Summer Bash lasts from midnight to midnight, so do come along and join in the fun!
Today is also the release day of Sunburnt Country, which is a contemporary paranormal m/m romance story set in Australia by yours truly. It is out in serial at Less Than Three Press; signup for serials happens here and the serial my story is in is Something Happened on the Way to Heaven.
Summary:
This is the story of James, an Australian man living and working in the outback who hears demons and Archangel Raziel, who has lost his book of magic to an Archdemon.
An excerpt of Sunburnt Country is beneath the cut. The excerpt is rated PG; story overall rating is NC17.
Excerpt:
How long he'd been asleep, he had no idea, but James came awake with the feeling that he was no longer alone. Thinking it was Rita or Marge (Maggie would have to go back to work, checking on other patients who lived along that part of the Nullarbor) he pulled a face as he sat up slowly.
"Couldn't leave me alone, huh?"
"I think," said a soft male voice, "you're mistaking me for someone else, James Marlowe."
James blinked, turning to stare at the owner of the voice. Sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed was a man who appeared to be near to James own age of twenty-nine—or perhaps a little older. He had dark, shoulder length hair and pale skin, and wore simple blue jeans and a dark grey t-shirt. His eyes were a bright, piercing blue, a colour that reminded James immediately of that navy blue of the deeper parts of the sea. They were beautiful eyes, almost mesmerising in their intensity and James felt himself inexplicably drawn by them.
"Who are you?" James asked. Ngapa was remote enough that random strangers wandering into his cabin was practically unheard of ... at least until now.
"My name is Raziel," said the man as he stood up. "And I am the Archangel of Secrets and Mysteries."
James stared at him incredulously, suspicion turning immediately to scepticism. "Right. Sure you are. And I'm the pope."
"Very droll." Raziel rolled his eyes. "Your headache. Is it still bothering you?"
"A little," James admitted, and then he frowned. "What the hell is this? Who are you really?"
"As I said," Raziel shrugged. "I could prove it to you if you wish, but you humans seldom enjoy such demonstrations."
"Yeah, well, no." James crossed his arms over his chest, completely unconvinced by Raziel's words. "Prove it."
Raziel let out a heavy sigh, the sound of one who is truly put-upon, and before James's astonished eyes, a pair of russet brown wings were suddenly visible, unfurling and stretching. The room seemed suddenly tiny with those large, magnificent wings revealed—not fully spread, however, for they would not have fit. There was a faint sheen of bronze light around the feathers, a light that both drew James and filled him with fear. He gulped.
"Okay, I believe you." James was amazed at how even his voice sounded.
Raziel quirked an eyebrow. "Well now, that was easy. I thought I'd have to levitate you to the top of the motel building or something else equally tacky."
"No, no, the wings are ... well, the wings are bloody amazing; that's good enough for me." James couldn't take his eyes off them. "But ... I don't believe in God, sorry. Or the Devil or demons or angels or, well, you."
"That's all right," Raziel smiled, and James noticed a flicker of that strange bronze light in his eyes. "You don't have to believe in us. We believe in you."
James had no reply for that. The words made the hackles on the back of his neck stand on end and he shivered, even though it wasn't particularly cool in his bedroom. It wasn't simply the words, however: James couldn't help but stare at Raziel, taking in his slender form, the warmth of his smile, the way his cheeks dimpled. Raziel was beautiful, beautiful and intriguing and a million other clichéd words and phrases that James didn't want to dwell upon, for fear of turning crimson in embarrassment and feeling like a horny teenager. It wasn't just the wings or the smile or his body, James realised, as Raziel carefully furled the wings against his back where they faded from sight: it was those intense, otherworldly eyes and the voice and ...
Oh God, he was doomed. He was lusting after an archangel. James forced himself to pay attention to Raziel's words as he continued talking.
"Now, I am not my brother, Raphael, who is the healer of my family, but I do know a little of the healing arts, and we need to talk, you and I. So I am going to fix your headache so that you can concentrate on what I have to say, all right?"
"If you can get rid of the headache, I'll concentrate on whatever you want," James promised.
Raziel chuckled and moved to stand in front of James, resting his hands on top of James's head. "Just listen to me is all I ask."
James nodded, falling silent again as he felt the warmth of Raziel's touch cascading through his skull like a comforting blanket. There was the sense of muscles being relaxed, of pain being sponged away and soothing caresses on his mind by invisible fingers that left little trickles of what felt like electricity in their wake. James's eyes fell closed as he relaxed completely, lulled by the power of Raziel's touch.
Finally, Raziel stepped back and looked into James's face critically as he opened his eyes, then nodded once. "Good." Raziel sat down again, pulling a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his jeans and lighting one with a lazy snap of his fingers. "So. Let's talk."
James leaned back against his headboard. "Okay." He realised that he had no idea what to say. And yet ... "Why is an angel smoking?" he blurted out. "Isn't that sort of a sin?"
Raziel chuckled. "I enjoy my vices, James. They aren't many, really—cigarettes, the occasional beer, sex. My father is much less strict about these things than you humans would otherwise believe. Our duties are such that these little ... tastes of ours are forgiven as a necessary evil if you will—something we do to wind down, to relax or to cope. What we do, after all, is rarely pleasant or easy." He took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly and gazing steadily at James, his expression unreadable.
"I need your help, James," Raziel continued, taking another deep drag of his cigarette. "A book has been stolen from me, a very important book—a book that I wrote a very long time ago. It's been stolen and hidden by some very unpleasant creatures. Now, before you ask me what this has to do with you, I shall tell you. For I am just that awesome." He grinned boyishly and James couldn't help but laugh.
"Okay, Raziel the Awesome, tell me."
"Raziel the Awesome, huh? I like the sound of that." Raziel's expression grew serious. "The book is called the Sefer Raziel, which is, essentially, the book of me. I wrote it and gave it to Adam. Yes, the Adam who was married to Eve and lived in Eden, before you ask. It's a book of magic and a guide to taking care of this planet. It's been stolen from the place I have kept it in for eons by a rather nasty little archdemon named Adramelech, who seems to think he can use it to start the final battle and give Lucifer an advantage over my oldest brother, Michael. I'd really rather he didn't do that—I'm sure you can understand why. I don't particularly want to see Dad's—God's—creation destroyed or watch my big brother die, even if he is a stuffy, uptight, pain in the ass sometimes."
"What's this got to do with me?" James asked.
"You can hear demons." Raziel exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke. "That's the reason for what you call cluster headaches—which are a very real thing, I hasten to add—but not what you yourself suffered. The headache today is worse because Adramelech is close. This barren wasteland you live in suits his needs. I can't find him, but you can."
" ... what?" James blinked. "I what now?"
"Hear demons," Raziel repeated patiently. "Like ... internet radio for Hell."
"Gee, that doesn't make it sound any less psycho or, pardon my language, fucked up!" James got to his feet, raking his hands through his hair. "I hear demons?! What the hell!"
"It does not mean you are evil, James," Raziel said calmly. "Some humans can hear angels, others hear demons, and still others hear both. Those unfortunates who hear both inevitably end up in institutions. The human mind is not designed to cope with the sounds of Celestial and Gehennan voices simultaneously." His expression grew sad. "I like humans," Raziel went on, "and it grieves me to see the effects that the sound of those voices have on human minds. The human mind is an amazing, remarkable thing, capable of infinite ideas, concepts, inventions. Seeing such potential torn apart by the agony of noise like that is ... well. It saddens me." He shook his head. "Anyway. To return to the point. You, my friend, hear demons. Congratulations." Raziel grinned, the display of his quixotic mood-swings not lost on James, although he chose not to comment on it. There was, after all, a bigger issue to discuss.
"I hear demons. Do you have any idea how fucking fucked up that is?" James was shaking—with shock or anger, he wasn't sure. "So, wait. Let's say I believe you. You want me to tune into demon radio and figure out where they are and what they're planning, is that it?"
"More or less," Raziel agreed smoothly. "For now, though, I think you need to eat. You must be hungry."
James waved a finger at Raziel. "Don't think you can fob me off, mate. We're coming back to this topic."
"Of course." Raziel stood up. "However, I have found humans tend to deal better with a new situation if they are regularly fed."
"Oh good, now I feel like a fucking sheep or a cow." James rolled his eyes.
"Nonsense." Raziel smiled brightly. "If you were a sheep or a cow, it would be cannibalism."
James gaped at Raziel. "You are fucking weird," he said finally. "I mean that in the nicest way, of course."
"Quite." Raziel's grin grew cheeky. "You also think I'm attractive and are having lustful thoughts about me. I'm flattered."
"You're reading my thoughts? Don't! Don't read my thoughts!" James blushed to the roots of his hair.
"As you wish. Shall we go and eat?" Raziel gestured towards the door.
"Fine." James shook his head. "This is ... the most bizarre day I have ever had. I can't believe I believe this shit."
"Stranger things have happened. Come." Raziel gestured again. "You require nourishment."
James rolled his eyes and moved towards the door. "How am I going to explain you to my friends here?"
"However you like." Raziel's expression was serene as he lightly touched James's elbow. "I'm sure you're inventive."
"Great," James muttered. "Just fucking great."