Without Light or Guide (12 page)

Authors: T. Frohock

BOOK: Without Light or Guide

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Drowsily, Diago touched the soft vibrations before they dissolved. Water trickled down the side of the tub in shades of silver and blue.

“What happened?” Miquel moved the washcloth in slow circular sweeps across Diago's back.

Haltingly at first, then with increasing confidence, he told Miquel about the day. By the time he reached his meeting with Alvaro, his eyes burned with the tears he'd dared not shed in front of either his father or Guillermo.

Miquel passed the wet cloth over Diago's forehead. “Let yourself weep, my star. It's all right to mourn.” Concern tinged his words in shades of brown. “It's only when you hold your grief in your soul does it turn into poison.”

“I've had enough poison for one lifetime.” He drew his finger across the vibrations of Miquel's voice and allowed his tears to come. With his thumb, he caressed Miquel's lower lip. “Stop frowning, my sweet Miquel. I'm all right. I am.”

Miquel took Diago's wrist and kissed his palm. Their wedding bands touchedâÂMiquel's gold against Diago's silver, and the tingle of his lover's magic wrapped Diago in warmth.

“Your colors are so beautiful. Sing to me.”

“Quietly though,” Miquel said. “So we don't wake Rafael.”

“Quietly,” Diago murmured.

Unlike his other attacks of chromesthesia, this one was almost languid. These were the gentle sounds. Shades of peace .Â .Â . and love. Miquel swirled the cloth in the water and hummed a soft song filled with saffron and gold. The sound spun over Diago's skin. Miquel's tenderness drove away the dark, one melodious note at a time, and wrapped Diago in the silken colors of home.

END

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A
lways and always to my family, first and foremost, always gets my deepest gratitude. For my husband, Dick Frohock, who has to share me with so many Âpeople, and for my beautiful daughter, Rhi, and her husband, Andrew Hopkins. I couldn't do this without their love and support.

Special thanks continues to go to Josep M. Oriol for reading horribly rough drafts and helping me with terminology and places in Barcelona. As with
In Midnight's Silence,
if there any mistakes regarding history, street names, or metro stops, those mistakes are mine and mine alone.

For those who read the manuscript, sometimes two and three times, and caught my many errors: Anne Lippin, whose advice transcended both the structural and the medical. Peter Cooper, whose sage advice is always on the money. To Glinda Harrison for reading it so fast and giving me such excellent comments. Thanks to Richard Auffrey for helping me pick the right drink for the right moment.

Thanks to Mark Lawrence, ML Brennan, Courtney Schafer, Mazarkis Williams, Alex Bledsoe, and Helen Lowe for their support, not to mention reading countless whiny emails from me about how hard it is to make up stories.

To my dear friend Lisa Cantrell for all of our Friday afternoons, and for reading all the different versionsâÂALL FIFTY VERSIONSâÂof my opening scene. Okay. It wasn't fifty, but it was damn close. Thank you especially for helping me bring Garcia to life.

Special thanks goes to David Pomerico for his excellent editorial direction. He nailed the troublesome plot issues in the first draft of this story and guided me back on track. The story you see here is much better than the one I produced on my own. I said this last time, I'll say it again: I'm very lucky to have such an excellent editor.

Most special thanks to Marlene Stringer, my literary agent, who puts up with me swooping in at the last minute with my story and merely nods sagely at my enduring promises to do better next time. You should have an award just for dealing with clients like me.

And thanks goes to the most important Âpeople of all: you, the reader. Without you, all of this wouldn't be half as much fun as it is.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

T. FROHOCK
has turned her love of dark fantasy and horror into tales of deliciously creepy fiction. She currently lives in North Carolina where she has long been accused of telling stories, which is a southern colloquialism for lying. Check out more of her works and news at
www.tfrohock.com
.

Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at
hc.com
.

ALSO BY T. FROHOCK

Los Nefilim

In Midnight's Silence: Los Nefilim, Part I

Without Light or Guide: Los Nefilim, Part II

The Second Death: Los Nefilim, Part III
(forthcoming)

Hisses and Wings: A Novelette,
by Alex Bledsoe and T. Frohock (featuring Bledsoe's Tufa and Frohock's Los Nefilim)

The Broken Road: A Novella

Miserere: An Autumn Tale

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

WITHOUT LIGHT OR GUIDE.
Copyright Â© 2015 by T. Frohock. All rights reserved under International and Pan-ÂAmerican Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-Âbook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-Âengineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperÂCollins e-Âbooks.

EPub Edition NOVEMBER 2015: 9780062428929

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