Hotter Than Hell

The glow from Tom’s soul filled the room, and she closed her eyes, the light too painful for her pale eyes. The doors were shut, the windows locked, and though his soul was gone, the energy of his death lingered.

And Mia cried. She had killed him, sure as if she had driven a knife into his lungs. Sob after sob filled the apartment, her crystalline tears soaking up the energy of the room until the brightness dimmed to a memory, and then, even that vanished and the air was pure. The love was gone, the fear, the comfort, everything was gone, as if no one had loved, lived, and died sheltered by these walls. She kept none of his energy for herself. It had been hard, but to take it into herself had never been her intention.

Slowly, Mia’s tears abated until her breathing steadied and her breath no longer came in racking gasps. The tears falling from her had eased from black to gray and were now perfectly clear, reflecting the dim sun from the ended rain. The emotions of the room were condensed and pooled in them. There would be nothing to link her to the death of this man, nothing to indicate that he had died in anything other than peaceful sleep.

Tom’s body lay facedown on the couch, an arm trailing to brush the floor. Not looking at him, Mia slowly got dressed, drained and tired. She looked once at the wish about her neck, then left it to hang. The tears she gathered like photos of lost children, love and pain mixed in equal parts. If she didn’t, someone would find them, recognize them, and she would be pulled in for questioning. The law knew what a banshee was capable of, and she would not allow herself to be jailed for this.

Fingers slow and clumsy, Mia felt the back of her dress to be sure the buttons were done up properly. The coffeepot was steaming, and she carefully put her empty cup away in the cupboard before unplugging the pot and setting his filled cup on the coffee table beside him. She turned the music down, and guilt prompted her to drape an afghan over him as if he was sleeping. His clothes went into the hamper.

Silent, she stood above him in her coat. “Goodbye, Tom,” she whispered before gathering her groceries and quietly leaving.

Fatigue hit her anew when she found the sidewalk. The rain had stopped, and the sun was peeking past the heavy clouds. Fumbling, Mia put her sunglasses on. Traffic hissed wetly, and she breathed deep when a couple passed her, hotly discussing the amount of the tip one of them had left. It was a sour taste after Tom’s love, and she let it eddy behind her unsipped.

She glanced at her watch and picked up the pace. Digging in a pocket, she found her wedding ring and put it back on. With a shamed slowness, her fingers slipped back into the pocket, ru

Delicate features pulling into a grimace, Mia took out a handful of tears, slipping the lightest one between her lips and sucking guiltily on it. His strength poured into her, and her pace quickened, heels clicking smartly against the concrete shining with the new sun.

Stupid man, she thought as she waved and jogged to catch the bus. The wish did work. Well, perhaps it would be more fair to say it had worked. It had worked very well when she met Remus—savage, angry Remus whose psychotic rage had been strong enough to bring Holly into existence. The love had come later, until now, she, Holly, and Remus were a real family. Like any family on the street, and Mia was proud of it.

Holly was the first banshee child to know her father, plying him with i

Breathless, Mia smiled at the bus driver as she just made it to the door, fumbling for her bus pass. Tom, dead in his apartment, was hardly a glimmer of memory as she settled beside a young man smelling of cologne and shedding lust Mia knew to be from a new girlfriend. Easing back, she soaked it in, sated.

Her lids fluttered as they rumbled over the railroad tracks, and she looked at her watch, mildly concerned. Remus would likely throw a bloody-hell tantrum that she was ru

Besides, little Holly was hungry, and it wasn’t as if he could do the shopping.

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

TANYA HUFF lives and writes in rural Ontario with her partner Fiona Patton, six cats and an unintentional chihuahua. Her third novel in the Confederacy of Valor series, Heart of Valor, was published from DAW Books in the summer of ’07 and she is currently working on book four, Valor’s Trial. When she’s not writing, she’s keeping an eye on the production of Blood Ties, her Vicki Nelson books adapted for televison. She’s recently become addicted to homemade chai latte and thinks life would be pretty much perfect if the crawlspace would just quit flooding.

MARJORIE M. LIU is an attorney who has lived and worked throughout Asia. She hails from both coasts, but currently resides in the Midwest, where she writes full time. For more information about her books, which include the bestselling Dirk & Steele series, as well as her upcoming urban fantasy, The Iron Hunt, please visit her website at www.marjoriemliu.com.

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author CHEYENNE MCCRAY has been writing ever since she can remember. She always knew one day she would write novels, hoping her readers would get lost in the worlds she created, as she did in her favorites.

For St. Martin’s Press, Chey writes the bestselling “Magic” series, most recently Shadow Magic and the upcoming Dark Magic. She also writes romantic suspense novels, including the high-octane thriller Moving Target and the soon-to-be-released Armed and Dangerous: Zack. Cheye

L.A. BANKS, (aka, Leslie Esdaile Banks) is a native of Philadelphia and graduate of the University of Pe

Born in the San Francisco Bay Area, SUSAN KRINARD received a BFA from the California College of Arts and Crafts and “fell” into writing after her dream of becoming a SF/fantasy cover artist fell through. The author of fifteen novels and several short stories and novellas, Susan focuses on the combination of fantasy and romance in her work. Her most recent novel, Lord of the Beasts, reached the New York Times bestseller list. She now lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, with her husband Serge, a cat named Jefferson, and her dogs Freya, Nahla, and Cagney. You can reach her at [email protected] /* */