Grim Ambitions: Collections, #21

By Meyari McFarland

Ten tales of darkness, told by Meyari McFarland. Dreams bring power… and threats in the real world. Winter sucks the life away. Aliens consume not just ships but souls. And ghosts hunt revenge against the living in these dark tales.

Streams of the Final Shores

Moonshine and Thistle

The Rings of Icy Mist

Forgotten Spring

The Lived Glory

Ghost Black Spaceship

Stellar Darkness Adrift

Sire of the Found System

Captive in the Waves

Tea with the Courtesan

Also includes an excerpt of Artifacts of Awareness!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meyari McFarland
• Release date: Oct 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393714293

Meyari McFarland

Meyari McFarland has been telling stories since she was a small child. Her stories range from SF and Fantasy adventures to Romances but they always feature strong characters who do what they think is right no matter what gets in their way. Her series range from Space Opera Romance in the Drath series to Epic Fantasy in the Mages of Tindiere world. Other series include Matriarchies of Muirin, the Clockwork Rift Steampunk mysteries, and the Tales of Unification urban fantasy stories, plus many more. You can find all of her work on MDR Publishing's website at www.MDR-Publishing.com.

Book preview

Grim Ambitions

Grim Ambitions

Collection #21

Meyari McFarland

MDR Publishing

Special Offer

The rainbow has infinite shades, just as this collection covers the spectrum of fictional possibilities.

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From contemporary romances like The Shores of Twilight Bay to dark fantasy like A Lone Red Tree and out to SF futures in Child of Spring, Iridescent covers the gamut of time, space and genre.

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Meyari McFarland shows her mastery in this first omnibus collection of her short fiction. Twenty-five amazing stories, all with queer characters going on adventures, solving mysteries, and falling in love are here in the first Rainbow Collection.

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And now you can get this massive collection of short queer fiction, all of it with the happy endings you love, for free!

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Sign up here for your free copy of Iridescent now!

Contents

Other Books by Meyari McFarland:

Author's Note: Streams of the Final Shores

Streams of the Final Shores

Author's Note: Moonshine and Thistle

Moonshine and Thistle

Author's Note: The Rings of Icy Mist

The Rings of Icy Mist

Author's Note: Forgotten Spring

Forgotten Spring

Author's Note: The Lived Glory

The Lived Glory

Author's Note: Ghost Black Spaceship

Ghost Black Spaceship

Author's Note: Stellar Darkness Adrift

Stellar Darkness Adrift

Author's Note: Sire of the Found System

Sire of the Found System

Author's Note: Captive in the Waves

Captive in the Waves

Author's Note: Tea with the Courtesan

Tea with the Courtesan

Author's Note: Artifacts of Awareness

1. Sold

2: Palace

Other Books by Meyari McFarland:

Afterword

Author Bio

Other Books by Meyari McFarland:

Day Hunt on the Final Oblivion

Day of Joy

Immortal Sky

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A New Path

Following the Trail

Crafting Home

Finding a Way

Go Between

Like Arrows of Fate

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Out of Disaster

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The Shores of Twilight Bay

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Coming Together

Following the Beacon

The Solace of Her Clan

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You can find these and many other books at www.MDR-Publishing.com. We are a small independent publisher focusing on LGBT content. Please sign up for our mailing list to get regular updates on the latest preorders and new releases and a free ebook!

Copyright ©2019 by Mary Raichle

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Print ISBN: 978-1-64309-074-0

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Cover image

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Illustration 97483437 © Grandfailure - Dreamstime.com

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be emailed to [e-mail].

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This book is also available in TPB format from all major retailers.

Created with Vellum Created with Vellum

This collection is dedicated to JC—Miss you, sweetie!

Author's Note: Streams of the Final Shores

Dreams have magic. The way identity shifts, worlds shift, everything shifts is powerful beyond belief. Dreams make sense of reality. They tear reality into absurdities. They transform our thinking and understanding at a cellular level.

So, what if dreams were actually magic? What if magic in dreams could become magic in reality? And what if you could wake to your magic just like you wake in dreams and then return to your body transformed by the experience?

Streams of the Final Shores

Madeline bent and braced her hands against her thighs. So much pain. Her back, thighs, calves. God, her calves felt like they were a half second away from cramping for eternity. Even the soles of her feet ached from the hike. Arms. Shoulders. Neck. That felt like she was getting stabbed.

It was so dark, too. She couldn't see her feet, not clearly at any rate. The darkness enveloped her, obscured everything around her. It felt alive. Velvet and big cats breathing just behind you as they waited for you to fall.

Not that she heard anything at all. Even her panting was quiet. Silent really. No noise, no smells, just the pain and the darkness that kept her from telling where she was going, where she'd been. Madeline straightened up and sighed. Dark, dark grey with dim shapes like trees in the distance that she never quite reached. In front, behind, either side, all she could see was the darkness.

I hurt, Madeline said except her voice was silent as the darkness. She kept talking anyway because it was true and it didn't matter if she wouldn't be heard. Just saying the words mattered. I hurt. I'm tired. I want to get there. Wherever there is. This better not be pointless. I won't accept it if it is. I matter. I do!

The more she said, the brighter things got. The taller she stood, the better she could see. As she grumbled, dawn appeared on the horizon, silhouetting the trees and transforming them into distant sky scrapers. The last bit got Madeline a burst of light that showed her a green, growing, beautiful world. Plants, flowers and grass and shrubs and lovely little maple trees that were bare saplings, new leaves budding as Madeline watched.

She beamed, delighted by the beauty of this place.

Until she raised a hand to push her hair back only to discover that her hand was covered with blood. Cuts crisscrossed her knuckles, dug into her fingers. Her wrist looked broken, bruised and swelling. There were more bruises and cuts going up her arms.

Madeline stared at her arm, heart beating faster.

This can't be real, Madeline whispered.

It is, sort of, a woman's voice said from behind Madeline.

She turned and there was woman standing there in stained pale blue yoga pants and a sagging tank top that just barely managed to cover her huge breasts. While her clothes were an absolute horror, her eyes were the color of the new maple leaves. So green that they were almost yellow.

Okay, so I'm dreaming, Madeline said because now there was a wide road under her feet instead of grass. Huh. This is a weird one. I'm usually not aware of it when I dream.

It's a bit more than a dream, the woman said, smiling ruefully. You're just about to get yourself trapped in the half-light. You need to wake up if you can. If not, my partner Kanti will wake you up but she's um. Well. A bit abrupt about things. We'd rather you woke up on your own.

I know a Kanti, Madeline said, blinking at the woman. She just got married, changed her name. Joyce. She married a Joyce. Banks, I think?

The woman grinned and held up her hand. It had a ring that exactly matched the one Kanti had shown Madeline when matter-of-factly quitting and announcing that she was first, queer, second, quitting, and third, getting married.

That's me, Joyce said. You really do need to wake up, Madeline. Kanti's getting impatient. And worried.

Eek.

The single flat word made Joyce laugh. Flowers bloomed all around her, bright and beautiful. Madeline looked down and all her flowers were blood-red. Streaked with blood as well as red colored. She frowned, staring at her hands.

I'm asleep, Madeline said.

Yes.

This isn't, quite, real.

No, it's not.

Kanti. That was Kanti's voice. There was heat in the air, rising in waves around Joyce. No, behind Joyce. The flowers around Joyce transformed into ice crystals as Kanti stepped into view, wreathed in fire. Madeline blinked and then gasped.

I'm the flowers, Madeline said. Not you. They're me. This is all me. It's reflecting me, isn't it? Or draining power from me and taking the shape I direct it to? Which?

Come visit us and we'll explain, Kanti said. She held up a hand with a ball of fire that hurt Madeline's eyes to look at. But you will wake now, Madeline. Wake!

The ball of fire swelled, consuming a chagrined but smiling Joyce, then Kanti, then the flowers, the shrubs, the trees. Everything went up in that ball of flame until Madeline had to turn and run.

Only to tumble to the floor as she leaped off the couch and tripped on the ottoman she used as a coffee table. Madeline panted, staring wildly around her dingy little apartment. The only good thing about the place was the big windows that opened out on the park. In the summer, in a few months, there'd be a wall of green leaves shielding her from the sun. Now there were maple trees with branches just beginning to sport buds that would become new leaves.

That was real, Madeline said.

She pulled herself up and oh. Oh goodness. Her whole body ached just like it had in the not-dream. But there were no cuts or bruises, no blood dripping down her arm, streaking her fingertips. No scorch marks, either, so that was a bonus.

I wasn't audible, Madeline whispered as she sat back down on the couch and turned the TV off with a flick of the remote. Wasn't heard. I could speak but I wasn't being heard. Not until I asserted myself. Which, duh, is exactly what Mom is always saying I need to do.

Not that she could really do that given her bosses. They were horribly racist and terribly misogynistic. Madeline couldn't count how many times her boss had complained that none of the women in the office would go out to dinner with him. That they didn't dress beautifully enough, have big enough breasts, pale enough skin.

The president of the company was worse. So was HR. There was no way that Madeline could change things. Or stand up for herself at work, not if she wanted to keep her hours. And her insurance.

So. I dreamed and went someplace kinda magical, Madeline said, staring out the window as she ruminated on it all. And that magical place reflected me. Both my love of greenery and my pain from work. Weird. Wonder if Kanti and Joyce were really there?

Logic said nope, total flight of fancy.

Madeline stood, kicked her blanket back over to the foot of the bed and stretched. Her back popped and creaked, especially when she stretched side to side. A quick shower in the teeny little shower stall was followed by clean clothes and a quick zucchini-chocolate muffin for breakfast. It was Saturday. She should go wash laundry. Get more groceries. Bake another batch of muffins and make some bread.

Wouldn't have lunches if she didn't make the bread. So, Madeline went to the cabinet and groaned. No yeast left. Groceries were definitely a thing that needed to happen. Right.

Switching slippers for tennies wasn't her favorite thing but hey, at least it wasn't high heels, right? Except that her tennies had holes in them and it'd rained last night, leaving a huge puddle that stretched right across the sidewalk in front of the stairs into the apartment building. Madeline huffed, glaring at the puddle before glancing at the mailboxes set in the wall by the entrance. Nothing in hers.

Banks.

Madeline blinked. Apartment 501 said Banks. She cocked her head, looked at the puddle and then ran up the stairs. Puddle was going to be there later but hey, she could at least check out the Banks on the fifth floor to see if it was Kanti and Joyce Banks. If so, hey, answered one question. The dream was real. Sort of. Didn't answer whether Madeline was going crazy.

The stairwell stank of urine still. Legacy of the homeless people that used to sneak in and sleep in there during the winter. Landlord had finally put in proper locks on the entrance and emergency exit doors a couple of years ago, but he hadn't bothered cleaning the stairwell. Or painting over the scuffs and bumps, wet marks that Madeline was completely certain were from urine. The vomit stain on the third floor.

Lazy bastard. Madeline'd been tempted more than a few times to go and clean it up herself but then the bastard would probably charge her fees for 'meddling' with the building or some such nonsense. Wouldn't take too much to clean the place up, get rid of the stink and make it a decent place to live.

Of course, then he'd raise the rates and Madeline would be out an apartment, so she'd kept her cleaning to her little apartment.

Apartment 501 was at the far end of the hallway from the stairwell, door battered and scared with even more stab and cut marks than Madeline's. Looked like someone'd gone to town on the thing ages ago only to slide to the floor exhausted before they broke through. Homeless men had been really scary. She wouldn't be surprised if that was exactly what'd happened.

Madeline shrugged away the past, as well as her dream, and knocked firmly right below the tarnished silver numbers screwed to the door.

Coming!

She blinked, laughing as Kanti opened the door. Okay, so yeah. Not a dream.

"Huh, I thought you'd be another day