Fever Nights: Wound of the Rose Trilogy, #2

By Avis Black

Seth Keane has made a mistake. He mocks a vampire, and just when he thinks he has managed to evade the monster--he knocks on the door of another. Even Maurice Fitzpons, that master of turning a situation to his own advantage, finds that his lover’s peril is just one crisis too many. 

Yet there are horrors worse than death. Insanity can dine on human flesh as hungrily as any vampire. 

Fever Nights is the second volume in the Wound of the Rose Trilogy, a gay romance and paranormal adventure series. 

Excerpt: 

A man was bending over a flowerbed. I raised my pistol, but I couldn’t identify the man from this angle. I blinked several times at him through the shimmering of fever. 

He straightened and looked at me as if I had said his name aloud. Long grey hair, a tall hat with a wide brim. Jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up. Next to him was a wheelbarrow filled with clumps of dirt and greenery. 

Ravenshaw had been weeding his garden. For a moment, I was too shocked to move at the sight of this monster performing such a mundane chore. “Where’s Maurice?” I shouted. 

“Follow the buzzing of the flies,” Ravenshaw replied with cold mockery. 

My hand came up like a spring, and I fired straight at his chest. The report nearly deafened me. My second shot struck his head. I could have ripped him apart with my hands for those words. 

A spatter of blood flew out of his head and Ravenshaw spun around, landing on his face in the flowerbed. 

“So what were you planting?” I yelled. “If it’s roses, I suggest fishmeal and lime.” 

--Your flesh will feed my garden after feeding me-- 

I nearly flew into the air. That had not been a sound to the ears, but a voice sent directly to my mind. What?! 

Slowly, Ravenshaw lifted himself into a sitting position. He stood, then turned to face me. I could see the wound right where the bridge of the nose meets the brow, just above the eye socket. The bullet must have passed into his brain. Another messy wound was in his chest. Blood was flowing down his face in a stream, and it covered Ravenshaw’s eyeball. He drew out his handkerchief and daubed at the injury while his other eye gave me a look of glaucous hate. “You can’t kill a vampire with a pistol,” he said evenly. “Your friend discovered that.” 

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Slash Press
• Release date: May 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533777850

Avis Black

Avis Black is the author of several works of M/M romance, comedy, and erotica. She also writes under the name Monique Raimbaud.

Book preview

FEVER NIGHTS

by

AVIS BLACK

Volume II of The Wound of the Rose Trilogy

Copyright © 2015 by Avis Black

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Cover photograph and design © 2015 by The Slash Press

PART 3

THE MANOR

CHAPTER 1

Lichburg

My first awareness was of my sore cheek and nose repeatedly striking against a back clad in dusty-smelling broadcloth. Someone was carrying me over a shoulder. I saw faded sunlight passing through dirty windows and heard the clop-clop of feet descending stone stairs into a dark passage.

Put me down, I begged. "Just leave me off at some cottage. Please."

He ignored me.

We entered a cold, damp-smelling cellar, and my kidnapper dropped me. I rose to my feet in a dazed manner and leaned against a thick stone wall, touching the swelling in my face. The room was as black as night except for the paraffin lamp shining on the man opposite me. He bore a slight resemblance to Taillemache. But judging from his bodily strength, this man did not suffer from any sort of physical illness. Was he indeed mad, then?

Why--why have you brought me here? I was playing the innocent with all my might.

I’m going to kill you, Ravenshaw answered. Then I’m going to mutilate your body and deliver your remains to Maurice Fitzpons. When Fitzpons has suffered as much agony as will please me, I’m going to kill him, too. A savage anger burnt inside his eyes.

There was a long silence. He knew my lover had stolen the ring?

You’re angry with Maurice, I take it, I said.

Ravenshaw chuckled in an unpleasant manner. Very perceptive.

Look, I’ve been angry with Maurice many times myself, but I wouldn’t kill him for it, I blurted out, one of those stupid remarks you make when your brains are thoroughly rattled.

Don’t you know why he must be punished? he asked, his voice rising in an irate manner.

No, I protested.

He reached out more quickly than I could comprehend and yanked off the amber ring so fast that he wrenched my finger. Thieves must suffer for their crimes, he spat, holding the ring up with a feral rage in his eyes. Then he threw the ring at me hard enough to bruise. I was astonished by the force of the blow. It was unnatural.

You knew this ring was stolen, Ravenshaw said.

But I didn’t take it! I cried desperately. It was beginning to look like Ravenshaw wasn’t mad and had a genuine reason to be angry. How was I going to escape? If I could only calm him down--

You knew the ring was stolen, but you still wore it anyway when your lover gave it to you.

I felt myself reddening. Ravenshaw had just threatened to kill both Maurice and myself, and all I could think about was that he knew I had a man for a lover. Odd what will bother you at moments like this.

"You knew the ring was stolen from me!" he shouted so loudly that my ears hurt.

No! I protested.

Near the paraffin lamp was a heavy wooden trunk with a metal clasp. Ravenshaw stepped over to it and picked it up by the handles with no more effort than a man lifting a pillow, and he tossed it across the room at me. I danced out of the way, and the trunk landed with an incredible bang on the flagstones.

Ravenshaw threw back its lid with a motion of raw fury. So you want rings, do you? he snarled.

Inside the chest were coins, rings, jewels, and other precious items. It was filled to the brim, and a wavelet of silver and gold coins spilled to the dirty floor and rolled about. Maurice had not been lying. I was stunned by the sight of so much wealth.

I’ll give you rings, he said with nasty humor.

He plunged his hands inside the chest and began to throw fistfuls of its contents at me, rings and gems pummeling like stones and coins cutting like razors.

I was jarred backwards by the blows until brought up short by the far wall, my arms raised to protect my head.

My God, I thought, he can actually kill me this way. He’s going to stone me to death with a king’s ransom. I let out a bitter laugh, wishing my stepfather were here. He’d be so pleased, I thought crazily as the glittering shower pounded me.

Unexpectedly, the murderous rain stopped. I peered through my fingers at Ravenshaw. He was standing there with two hands filled, looking offended.

Why are you laughing? he demanded. "How dare you laugh?"

Wouldn’t you? Isn’t this too bizarre for words? I replied. The back of one of my hands was bleeding, and I lowered it