Potato Surprise: Brimstone, #1

By Angel Martinez

This is no way for the universe to treat a demon prince…

 

When a steel trap of celestial and infernal politics threatens to close around them, Shax and Verin flee Earth's system in a stolen ship, leaving everything behind. It's an elegantly simple plan, with a new ship and a new life as carefree brigands among the stars.

But the ship seems to hate them, and in order to have any sort of life they need funds. A frightened man offering them a contract to deliver three mysterious crates comes just in time, and Shax is sure their troubles are over. Out of his environment and in over his head, Shax scrambles to understand the players and the consequences of his new life. With cargo that's not what it seems, shadowy motives around every turn, and a gorgeous rogue named Julian for a dash of added confusion, Shax's grand schemes of a new start may be his demise before he can even begin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mischief Corner Books
• Release date: Sep 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393643586

Angel Martinez

The unlikely black sheep of an ivory tower intellectual family, Angel Martinez has managed to make her way through life reasonably unscathed. Despite a wildly misspent youth, she snagged a degree in English Lit, married once and did it right the first time, (same husband for almost twenty-four years) gave birth to one amazing son, (now in college) and realized at some point that she could get paid for writing. Published since 2006, Angel's cynical heart cloaks a desperate romantic. You'll find drama and humor given equal weight in her writing and don't expect sad endings. Life is sad enough. She currently lives in Delaware in a drinking town with a college problem and writes Science Fiction and Fantasy centered around gay heroes.

Book preview

Chapter One

This wasn't how a ship should treat a demon prince. Frankly, it wasn't how a ship should treat anyone. Shax clutched the penlight between his teeth, trying desperately to prevent the plasfilm sheets from slipping out of order again.

Maintenance… mattress settings… navigation readouts… nitrogen storage… That's absurdly specific. Oogamous transport? What in blazes?

A huge shadow blocked half the meager light from the corridor floor runners. What the fuck are you doing now?

I don't have time for this. I'm reading the manual.

Sulfur-laden steam accompanied Verin's next snorted breath, his clawed feet scraping the deck plates. I see that, numbnuts. Why aren't you in the fatherfucking pilot's pod?

Ver, I'm not doing this for my health. Shax glanced up, then was sorry he had. Verin's broad frame, head topped with his curled ram's horns lit from below by the floor runners, was a bit too ominous for comfort. When I tried to page through the manual in the pod, the screen froze and the console spit out reams of plasfilm. The lights flickered out, so down here on the corridor floor is the only place I can see any damn thing at all.

You're figuring out the nav calc since you royally screwed the jump out?

A prince has no choice but to screw up royally, Shax murmured. No, I'm trying to find out how to change the ship's registration.

As soon as he said it, Shax wished he could take the words back. A rumbling growl vibrated the deck plates and sparks rained down around him from Verin's harsh breaths. If his own irritation level hadn't been at several feet above his horns, he might have picked his next words more wisely.

Hell's sakes, Ver. Calm down. Oh, imp crap.

Fingerlings of flame shot from Verin's nostrils as he surged forward and yanked Shax up by his shirtfront. The plasfilm sheets scattered over the decking. Even though his feet dangled several inches from the floor and mortal peril stared him in the face, Shax fought a sigh. I just got those back in order.

You and your bloody stupid ideas! Verin shouted in his face. "You steal a ship that hates us, fire up the Copernicus drive without knowing what the fuck you're doing, send us out into the hairy ass end of nowhere, and you want me to calm the fuck down?"

On the last word, Verin hauled back and hurled him across the corridor with the force of a missile launch. Pain registered, as short and sharp as his violently loud collision with a cabin door, before the remainder of the lights went out.

---

With a groan and some jumbled thoughts about the possibility of centuries having passed, Shax woke in an awkward crumble on the floor. Partially on the floor. One of his legs was still propped up against the now badly dented cabin door. When he puzzled out which way was down, relatively speaking, he managed to roll far enough to get his leg on the same plane as the rest of his body. His penlight lay on the floor, illuminating one of the plasfilm sheets scattered like ugly autumn leaves. Maybe if I turn my head enough…

Registration settings.

Well, there you are. Finally. Shax didn't bother to sit up. Since his arms and legs moved, more or less, he felt it safe to assume his spine was whole. His left hand was a swollen lump of pain, so he ignored it in favor of his right to pull the sheet closer, and began to read sideways as quickly as his blurred vision allowed.

Claws clicked on the plates and Verin huffed as he plunked down beside him. In one piece?

More or less.

Verin grabbed a shoulder and heaved Shax into a sitting position. Hand looks bad.

Fingers are broken. Shh. Shax dragged the film and penlight into his lap to keep reading.

Give. They're all over the fucking place. Can't let 'em heal that way again.

Yes, yes. Distracted with his search, Shax was only half-aware of Verin taking hold of his hand until the bones scraped and ground, nearly sending him into a whiteout of pain. Ow, ow, ow, great steaming troll balls! Ver!

Stop being such a baby. They're straight now.

Shax clutched the hand to his chest, rocking and swearing. Of course the fingers would heal better straight, and demons healed so quickly that forgetting to straighten a break meant rebreaking a day later to fix it. But Verin coming to sit with him wasn't primarily about making sure all his parts were attached correctly. They'd known each other almost since birth. Well, Shax's birth and Verin's hatching. This was the postexplosion talk and Shax knew all too well who had to apologize first.

Ver— He had to stop and clear his throat, his voice still shaky with pain. You're with me on why we had to leave, right?

I get it, dumbass. No other choice if we wanted to not end up barbecued. If we tried to steal the crown of Stephen thingy, all the shrieking fucking angels of doom would've come out of the woodwork and hacked us into flaming bits. If we went back without it, the Boss was gonna barbecue us anyway, 'cause he wanted us dead to start a fight. Yeah. I got it.

"And you agree that we had to leave Lunar Station, tout de suit."

Except for the snooty French, I get why we had to bail so fast. You spotted IAE agents, didn't you? Not that you bothered to fucking tell me. But I was pretty sure.

Shax nodded, then let his head rest against the dented door. Yes. Infernal Affairs had caught up to us that fast. Scary fast. I had to get us away. I'm sorry, Ver. I thought piloting this thing couldn't be too different from flying Uncle Asmodeus's yacht.

Old Asmo's fucking space yacht doesn't have intersystem drives, genius. You couldn't take a couple minutes to do nav calc?

I've never done it before, Ver. I tried. I'm sorry. Apparently it's not my strong suit.

Yeah, well, neither's magma surfing, but you tried that once too.

Shax managed a hollow chuckle at the memory. At least he hadn't taken a header off the board, and Verin's calmer insults meant he was forgiven. So what I was trying to tell you before is that I need to change the ship's registration.

Yeah? What's that gonna help?

The ship allowed us to take off since we got in using the previous owner's ID. We were quiet taking off. I was in the pod. You were securing gear. But once we returned to normal space, you came to the pod and we started talking. The AI registered that we weren't who we said we were and shut down.

Shaxy, this better be going somewhere, Verin growled.

It is, oh, most definitely. If I can change the registration so that we own the ship in the eyes—or data streams and sensors, as it were—of the AI, I can get it to wake up and talk to us. It can help us find out where we are and, I'm hoping, get us back to some version of civilization. Someplace with fuel and unethical banking systems.

Huh. All right. Trickles of steam curled up from Verin's head, mostly likely worry instead of anger. And if the AI doesn't want to wake the fuck up?

Shax offered his brightest smile. Then I'll think of something else.

Which translated from Shaxese means we're fucked.

Pretty much. But life and hope and all that, right? Ver, we'll be all right. Have I ever let you down?

There was that one time—

In the long run. When it mattered, haven't I always gotten us clear?

Yeah, Verin muttered to his feet. Guess so.

Shax nudged him with his elbow, one of the few parts of him not hurting. "This'll