The Museum’s alive,
With the sound of screaming.
With screams it abounds,
Every couple years.

The Major Events,
Have turned out as bloodbaths.
Have dinner there,
You’ll be the meat.

You know the shows,
Won’t be monster-free.
’tween lilies and old tombs
So once the lights go dim
Drop your fork and run for the street!

’cause the Museum’s alive,
With the sound of screaming
Screams that have rung,
’gainst a thousand ears.
If an invite you get,
To a new exhibit,
Make any excuse
But please leave town....   read more »

“I never abandon myself to anything.”

That was the warning he had given her the first time that they made love and for almost a year now he had kept that promise. Yet she had abandoned herself to him almost from the moment they met. For two years she had loved him in silence; had longed for him from afar. She had been his ally, his associate, and at times, she flattered herself, they had almost been friends. But he had never seen her true feelings. She had taken great pains to hide them; afraid she would lose him forever if he were to find out.

It had been by mistake that they had come together. He had been handling his brother Diogenes’ estate. Allotting the last of it to various causes. After his brother had died at his hands, Aloysius Pendergast had sworn he would have nothing to do with the younger man’s fortune. In the end, however, he had been forced to, at least, find places for the money and the task of going through old papers and forms always seemed to bring about an unfair number of painful memories.

It was following one of these sessions that they had met...   read more »

Pendergast’s POV


He was sitting in the back of an ambulance when I arrived, covered in blood and for his sake I hoped some of it was his own. An EMT was holding a stethoscope to his chest and checking his blood pressure. He sat there patiently, staring off into space, his dark sunglasses perched on top his curly black hair. He hadn’t noticed me yet and I took the opportunity to just watch him.

At the beginning of the day, I was sure Halo Spencer’s shirt had been white but now, as it was nearing 6pm, his shirt had turned crimson in places and pinkish in others with the blood that covered him. His faded jeans and Converse sneakers were blood stained as well, nearly caked in the stuff. The officer that called me on his behalf hadn’t told me anything of the situation, only that a former FBI agent had requested my presence. I had arrived as quickly as I could; I never knew what the situation could bring when Halo asked for my help.

“I’m going to...   read more »

Somewhere on the small, rock-strewn island of Capraria, in a small cottage by the sea, the blazing colors of the setting sun painted a series of shifting, weaving patterns on the white stuccoed walls of the bedroom in which reclined a heavy-lidded Aloysius Pendergast. The fragrance of a lightly-scented lotus blossom perfume mixed maddeningly with the heavier scents of the sea outside carried in through the open French doors by way of a cooling breeze that found its way into the ordinarily stifling room.

Aloysius lay naked on the bed. His now lightly sun-kissed body was noticeably leaner from his recent prison sojourn but still heavily muscled and fit for any kind of action. The pale blonde hair on his chest moved rhythmically with his breathing; he lay with hands lighlty folded across his taut belly one leg slightly raised at the knee.

Thoughts of former loves whirled slowly through his mind: Sophia who had so beautifully graced the waterfall in his Dakota home and who had possessed the most exquisite legs he had ever seen. On a woman. Jemimah, a special agent who was indeed a special agent, and whose streetsmart, rough and tumble playfulness had made a truly fascinating experience...   read more »

Please be a Lady tonight,
For once be a Lady tonight,
A Lady doesn’t wander from brother to brother,
Try to be a Lady tonight.

Poor Aloysius was blue,
So to your island he flew,
But when he knew your mission he ran right back to prison,
Lucky you’re no Lady tonight....   read more »

Maria Almadovar-Gonzalvez finished drying the wine glass and hung it upside down in the wood wine rack over the large center island. It was a beautiful kitchen; white and black marble tiled floor, genuine maple cabinets along two walls topped with a dark granite countertop. Elegant chrome fixtures gleamed under the subdued lighting over the sink, and the stainless steel refrigerator and freezer reflected the same light in dull, hazy patterns.

Maria pressed her lips into a thin line as she regarded the spotless kitchen. The Señor, he would be pleased. Too bad she was giving her notice tonight. Her employer was an unusual man, but not unkind, always asking after her family. He didn’t seem to have any of his own, and Maria, a child of fruitful parents, thought he might be lonely. She straightened her back and raised her chin. He would have to find another maid with a large family with whom to discuss the proper way to make paella or steak au poivre. Maria had to think of her children. She had to leave New Orleans, the sooner the better.

She left the kitchen, careful not to let the door thump behind her, and walked down the...   read more »

There was a point during his convalescence in his brother’s questionable care, shortly after he’d come to realize in some sort of vague sense where he was and what was going on, when he woke to the feeling of careful hands on his left foot. He’d spent so long consumed by fever dreams and night terrors it was a moment before he was certain that he wasn’t sleeping. Eyelids barely open, he gazed down towards his feet. Diogenes was crouched there, slowly running his fingers along Pendergast’s insole, lips moving silently.

When they were younger, before Diogenes’ illness—for Pendergast still called it such in his mind, even though he now knew it had been something else entirely—he had allowed this frequently. Diogenes had been a student of anatomy even then, and had found his brother’s pale, nearly translucent skin a fascinating source of study. Pendergast, for his part, had been something of a hedonist even in youth, and had enjoyed the contrast between the heavy Louisiana air and Diogenes’ small, cool hands as they followed blood, bone, muscle, and nerves. Sometimes, after there parents had gone to sleep for the night, Pendergast would lie silently on top of his bedclothes, hovering...   read more »

He stared down at his bed and smiled, brushing the fingertips of one hand over his lips. His brother lay on his stomach, nude and pale against the dark backdrop of his bedsheets, and looked up at him demurely through his eyelashes. Diogenes laughed shrilly and then sighed. “What a surprise.”

A flush rose on Aloysius’ face, but he said nothing. Diogenes stepped forward, loosening his tie and stripping off the suit jacket he’d worn to school. “Home for the weekend? Do Mother and Father know you’re here?”

“Yes,” Aloysius said softly as Diogenes knelt and used his necktie to bind his brother’s wrists in an intricate knot.

“You like to take risks, don’t you? Big brother?” He held his brother’s chin and tilted his head up, forcing him to make eye contact. Aloysius said nothing, and Diogenes leaned forward to for a brief, light kiss before standing again. “Won’t this be fun?” he asked tauntingly, skimming a hand down Aloysius’ back. He lingered at the swell of his flank for a moment, teasing, and then abruptly drew his hand back and struck as hard as he could.

Aloysius did not cry out, but Diogenes was pleased to see the pinprick sparkles of tears...   read more »