Splintered (20 page)

He looked at the phone, turning it
over in his hands for several seconds. "Adri…we had a fight. A
fight that took place right after we'd both been in the most
stressful situations of our lives. Neither of us was thinking very
clearly."

I interrupted, shaking my head slowly. "This
isn't about our fight. Mom decided to move us away from
Sanctuary."

"You don't have to go. We'll get you legally
emancipated. If that doesn't work, I'll arrange for you to be
kidnapped. You could disappear until you're eighteen. You can stay,
I want you to stay."

I nodded. "I'd like that, I really
would, but it won't work. My mom needs me. More than that, you need
to understand that I'm leaving because of what you allowed to
happen, not just while Agony was here, but before. You have the
ability to be a great leader, but you're not going to realize that,
not unless something makes you understand what you give up by
treating people like they are property."

Alec shook his head. "We had a
fight; we're having a fight, even. Don't run away. I love you, I
really do."

"I hope you do. If you really do love me then
maybe this will be the wakeup call you need. Don't try to stop me,
don't call me, don't swing by for a visit. We're over."

I turned around and walked away but not before
three scenes burned themselves into my memory.

Jess and Isaac. She looked scared and lost, a
stranger in a world where everyone she met knew more about her than
she did. Isaac looked so very alone. He had lost the person who
most understood him and in her place was a stranger he felt
obligated to take care of.

Jasmin had been standing partially hidden by a
tree, but even with the foliage obscuring most of her face I could
all but read her mind. She'd hurried to Ben's house the night
Alison had died, but Agony had kept us all too late. Ben was gone,
probably for good, and he would spend the rest of his life craving
a high she'd never be able to satisfy again.

Jess, Isaac and Jas were bad enough,
but it was the sight of Alec that nearly ripped my heart out of my
chest. He'd stood strong while Brandon tried to kill his friends
and family. He'd never even flinched when Agony was within
centimeters of triggering the fight that would have destroyed us
all. He was so strong, but now he looked like I'd hollowed him out
and left a robot where his heart used to be.

I forced myself to keep walking. I
made it all the way back to the Jeep before I broke down. As we
drove away I tried to tell myself I'd done the right thing. I
wasn't sure anymore though. All I knew was Alec wouldn't forgive
me. Right or wrong, there wasn't any going back.

--The Story Continues
in
Intrusion
--

Author's Note:

To be honest, as I write this I'm a
bit nervous about how Splintered will be received. On the one hand
I'm a writer. On the other hand, I'm a fan of Alec and Adri's
story--I guess really the very first fan. As a writer this was
exactly where the story needed to go, and I'm not sure that I've
ever managed to write something this powerful before now. As a fan,
I'm positively broken up about where Adri left things, and knowing
what comes next for them doesn't make things any easier.

Fan-Dean, who happens to be a
hopeless romantic, wants all of you fellow fans to know that the
ride will be worth it. We've got a couple of other things we need
to go see before we get where all of you want to go next, but those
stories are part of what Writer-Dean knows needs to happen before
Alec and Adri can continue their journey.

If you've enjoyed, Broken, Torn,
and Splintered please help spread the word. Every tweet, blog post,
review and recommendation to a friend is immensely helpful and
greatly appreciated. Also please consider signing up for my mailing
list. I will only use it to announce new releases or pass along
other information that my fans are indicating they want to
know.

In the meantime to help you bridge
the gap till the next release, I've included excerpts for Handoff
(the first Dark Reflections story) and Frozen Prospects below. I
hope you enjoy them both.

Acknowledgments:

As always, thanks needs to go out to
everyone that continues to provide support in dozens of different
ways. When an author chooses to go the indie route, it means they
absolutely rely on their fans to get the word out, and I'm very
appreciative everyone that blogs, reviews, or otherwise helps put
Torn and Broken on the map.

There are a few individuals who
deserve special mention. Larry and Mark who faithfully read and
review just about everything I write. Mimi who served as an advance
reader and righted my faulty biology facts, and Cammie who was one
of the early converts. There are also several bloggers and other
reviewers who deserve special mention. Jennifer at
readingandwritingurbanfantasy.com, Sam at papercutsya.blogspot.com,
Sandra at ratherbarefoot.blogspot.com, Shana at
sizzlingreads.blogspot.com, and Sharonda at
sexxyladeeblogger.blogspot.com all Reviewed Torn and/or
Broken.

Additional thanks need expressed to
Obsidian Dawn, www.obsidiandawn.com, for brushes used in the
creation of the cover for Splintered.

Finally, none of this would be
possible without my wife Katie, who puts up with long hours from me
while she does heroic work on the editing and covers.

About the Author:

Dean started reading seriously in
the second grade due to a competition, and has spent most of the
subsequent three decades lost in other people's worlds. After
reading several local libraries more or less dry of sci-fi and
fantasy, he started spending more time wandering around worlds of
his own creation to avoid the boredom of the 'real'
world.

Things worsened, or improved
depending on your point of view, when he first started
experimenting with writing while finishing up his accounting
degree. These days Dean has a wonderful wife and two lovely
daughters to keep him rather more grounded, but the idea of
bringing others along with him as he meets interesting new people
in universes nobody else has ever seen tends to drag him back to
his computer on a fairly regular basis.

Keep up to speed on Dean's latest projects
at 
http://www.deansonlinefiction.com/
, deanwrites.blogspot.com or follow me on Twitter
@Writer_Dean

Handoff Excerpt

"If this goes on much longer, I'm going to have
to kill someone just so we can see some real action."

Pitch looked like he wanted to cuff Mouth, but
even Pitch had to think twice before getting physical with Mouth.
It wasn't Mouth's appearance. Compared to some of the merc's that
routinely worked for the Lieutenant, Mouth was practically a choir
boy. Blond hair, blue eyes and a square jaw that had been known to
lure in girls who really should have known better.

It wasn't ever the surface that tipped people
off about Mouth, it was all the stuff just under the skin. Adam was
pretty sure Mouth was ex-military, but if so he'd never made it
through his tour to be honorably discharged. Anyone who'd spent
time at the front knew you could get away with a lot when it was
just you and your unit stuck in the middle of some forsaken bit of
swamp, but Adam had never been in any unit that would have let
Mouth pursue his more exotic vices, and Mouth wasn't known for his
self-restraint.

Pitch, an ex-sergeant from the Marines,
apparently decided he couldn't let the comment pass without a least
making motions to rein Mouth in.

"Quiet. You're supposed to be pretending to be
a hole in the night."

"Whatever, Pitchy. This is just another milk
run. I signed on to get stuck in, not babysit abandoned train
yards."

"I don't care what you signed on for, you
signed on. That means until the Lieutenant says otherwise, you'll
babysit whatever I tell you to babysit, or you'll be out on your
ass again looking for work."

For a second it looked like Mouth was going to
respond, but he settled for flipping Pitch off and rolling back
over onto his stomach. It'd probably been that last bit that had
pulled him up short. Even a sniper as good as Mouth couldn't count
on a steady stream of jobs if he was stupid enough to piss of the
few merc's with the kind of contacts to put real work
together.

Mouth likely had warrants out in every state on
the west coast. When you had money little things like the police
being after you weren't necessarily show stoppers, but Mouth spent
it faster than even he could bring it in. If he pissed off Pitch
enough for the wiry, black ex-Seal to convince the Lieutenant to
drop him, he'd have to turn to wetwork to pay the bills, and he
wasn't smart enough to get away with that for long.

Satisfied that he wasn't going to have to worry
about putting a round into Mouth's back, Adam rested his cheek back
against the stock of his L115A3. The night sight currently letting
him pierce the darkness, had cost the better part of five grand,
and still was a fraction of the cost of the rifle it was mounted
on.

It rankled more than a little that the
Lieutenant had brought Mouth in on this job. If someone else had
asked Adam along on a stateside mission he would have told them no.
There was just too much risk of getting tangled up with law
enforcement. The Lieutenant had told Adam more than once that mercs
made their living on the fringes of civilization, and smart ones
chose the fringes not in North America.

The call asking Adam along on this particular
foray into lawlessness hadn't included an explanation as to the
reason the Lieutenant was breaking his own rules, but Adam hadn't
pressed. The Lieutenant had saved Adam's life six years ago when
there hadn't been an upside and Adam had been his man ever since.
He'd served as overwatch on the last half-dozen missions he'd been
asked to join, and he'd saved the team's ass more than
once.

.338 rounds were more than capable of ripping
through light vehicles at the appropriate ranges. Bringing along
Mouth and his .50 Barrett was both overkill and stupid. Adam just
couldn't see any scenario where they were going to run into
full-blown armored vehicles this go around. Even the up-armored
SUV's some of the drug cartels used in this part of Arizona didn't
justify dealing with Mouth's attitude, not on a mission Adam hadn't
wanted to be on in the first place.

A burst of static signaled orders from the
Lieutenant. "Our principle will be arriving shortly. Some kind of
handoff occurring. Our orders are to keep him from being
disturbed."

"Right. Like I said, a milk run. Thermals
aren't picking anything up, and there's nothing but desert for
miles. What in the hell was Union P thinking putting a yard all the
way out here?"

"I'm serious, Mouth. Can it. We've got movement
coming from this direction."

Adam resisted the temptation to take his
attention off of his slice of the horizon and rubberneck. Pitch
would let him know what he needed to know. The old man had served
as a spotter for nearly two decades on more continents than most
people could name without looking in an encyclopedia.

Instead Adam reviewed the layout of the rail
yard. A single two story building with some kind of metal awning
over the door stood just to the west of a central open compound.
The snipers and Pitch had set up on the building since it gave them
the most commanding vantage despite the blind spots created by the
scattering of smaller structures surrounding it. The rest of the
team was spread out to cover gaps between buildings and help
provide eyes on the dead spots that the overwatch team couldn't
see.

"Two vehicles inbound. Looks like SUV's of some
kind. They're running dark."

Pitch's voice had dropped into the smooth cant
of someone used to pointing out targets without startling his men
enough to make them miss shots.

"Damn, everything's all happening at once. I've
got a pair of semi's that just came around the hill. They part of
the plan or do I get to do something about them?"

"They're expected. The handoff is supposedly
container sized."

Something flickered across Adam's scope. Too fast to be
anything land bound but bigger than any bird he'd ever
seen.

Frozen Prospects Excerpt

Va'del looked up at the tiny violet time sphere
that provided the only light to the room and then hunched further
down on his sleeping mat. The thin pad of woven gurra wool provided
only minimal cushion between him and the cold stone floor of the
sleeping chamber.

The chamber was barely three paces to a side,
empty but for his one change of clothes and the dim time sphere
that almost chased the shadows back to the far wall. There was
barely room to stretch out let alone hide.

Even in the rambling caves where the People
made their home, a private chamber was usually a sign of status. In
his case it was just evidence nobody was willing to spend any more
time in his company than absolutely required. He listened to the
slow drip of water somewhere out in the darkness and wished there
was a way to disappear. As much as he might desire otherwise, it
was inevitable that Pa'chi would eventually show up and try to drag
him to weapons practice.