All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN-13: 978-0-9882757-1-3
ISBN-10: 0988275716
Edited by Finish The Story
Second edition proofread by T.K.
Cover art by Tenaya Jayne
Cold Fire Publishing LLC
Dedicated in loving memory of
Robert and Opal.
I miss you.
Prologue
Austin, Texas
Where shall you go, daughter of Austin? It’s Friday night and you’re ready to hit the clubs in your new mile high shoes and push up bra. You walk down the sidewalk as though it were the runway, with your girlfriends in tow behind you. Where shall it be? Will you stick with the familiar on 6th St.? Or will you saunter over to Red River? You feel your power over the opposite sex as they ogle you as you pass. Maybe you’ll meet Mr. Right tonight or a suitable Mr. Right now. You set your sights on some familiar stomping ground, thinking it’s as good as any, but wait… What’s this? You and your girls feel the pull of the doors to your left. You look up at the sign hanging low over your head: The Portal. You can feel the beat of the music in the sidewalk under your feet. The vibrations going up the heels of your stilettos are pleasantly buzzing your feet.
The cool air welcomes you in out of the humid summer night. You feel it instantly, some sense of otherworldliness. The place is packed, and the energy of the people dancing is palpable and intoxicating. The spinner, positioned royally above the crowd, breaks your heart with his unnatural amount of masculine beauty. Why have you never heard of this place? Your girlfriends flow onto the dance floor, but you hesitate. Wanting to get the full picture, you back up slowly until your back hits the wall.
There is nothing out of place, nothing to cause you alarm, but you have an unspoken innate knowledge of the strangeness of this place. This club has secrets. You think you are alone in the shadows, pressed up against the wall, when you turn your head to the side. A woman is standing very close to you, looking at you, silently. Your eyes widen, and your mouth gapes as you stare rudely back at her.
Never in your life, not in a movie, or a doctored picture have you seen eyes like hers. Layer upon layer of shades of green, laced with minute veins of gold, and fanned with lashes of deepest ebony. Her eyes seem too big to be real. You’d deal with the devil for a pair of your own. You can’t even register anything else about her appearance except you know that she is exquisitely beautiful. Now the power you felt earlier drains away. You feel plain next to her.
“Go on,” her voice is both gentle and seductive.
You look back at the dance floor and feel an overwhelming pull to join the crowd, but not before you look once again into those eyes. Turning back to the woman, you find she has gone, as quickly and silently as though she vanished into thin air…maybe she did.